Wuthering Souls
by Bocilovegsr
Summary: Sometimes situations in life drive people to wish something they don't really think over in the heat of the moment. After the case of Pam Adler, Sara wished Grissom understood her. In his home Grissom did the same. How can they cope with the consequences?
1. From Egypt to America

**Title: Wuthering Souls**

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><p><strong>Disclaimers<strong>: Sadly, I do not own anything or anybody related to CSI or the movie Freaky Friday.

**A/N:** This is a short story that was nagging me for some time now, so I decided to write it down and share. I love all kinds of tales so I thought you might like one with our favorite couple. This first chapter is a bit long for a prologue but is important for the later happenings. Hope you like it. If so, please tell me if it is worth to continue.

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><p><strong>Chapter One - prologue<strong>

_**ca. 1334 BC, Royal Palace, Akhetaten, Egypt**_

Vagueness and fear had never been felt as acutely as Egyptian people felt it these days. The Nile seemed to run slower, its color looked darker and dirtier than ever. The sun was scorching like never before as if the great Aten, the god of the only Sun wished to punish the people of Egypt for the death of his living spirit, King Akhenaten.

The good king had died a violence death a year ago leaving his beautiful wife behind with their daughters and son. Many advisors had suggested that Nefertiti should return to the Egyptians' old and noble religion but the woman had refused to comply.

One day, Nefertiti went into the room of her only strong and clever son. The nine-year-old boy was playing with his wet-nurse in the middle of the spacious room when she entered.

"Maia, leave!" Nefertiti ordered and the middle-aged woman backed out of the room keeping her eyes strictly on the floor.

The black haired young boy looked up at the fair woman, "Mother?"

"Come and listen to me, Tutankhaten!"

The child followed the woman in all silk and then sat next to her.

"Our only god, Aten came to me last night and whispered a secret into my ear. Aten wishes you to be the new king of Egypt. Last night you were given eternal life, my child."

"I'll be the pharaoh like my father was?"

"Yes. You already are. You'll be cherished and worshiped by your people."

"And hated by others like my father was. Will I die, too?"

"Aten will hold your hands and will protect you, there's nothing you should be afraid of. Maybe your body leaves this world early but your life is of Aten. No one will forget you…ever."

"When?" the trembling child asked.

"When the time comes. Be ready then."

At that time, the young boy did not know that it was the last time he saw his mother. The next morning Maia rushed into his room and nervously woke him up.

"Wake up, my sire!" and this time she kept her eyes on the floor.

"Maia? Why don't you look at me?"

"I have no right to do that anymore, sire. It's happening, sire."

"Happening? Happening what?"

"You are the King of Egypt. You might want to be ready to…"

"Where is my mother?"

"With Aten, sire."

And the child knew. The night his father had died, little Tutankhaten had been told the same and he had never seen the great pharaoh again. And now, his mother was with Aten, too. Now he understood.

"Maia, I don't want it."

"You have to be grateful for the life you have. You don't know how many children would love to trade with you for the life you enjoy every single day. You'll never die, you're now immortal, and you're our one and only living God on this planet."

_I don't want to be hated and then killed. Everybody was killed who used to be a god…Aten is a selfish god who always wants what is someone else's. I hate him, I will not worship him anymore, and I will not die for him…because of him_, Tutankhaten thought.

"Maia, I'm afraid."

Still not looking at him, the woman said, "You have to see how lucky you're, sire. You…will live a wonderful life and no human can hurt you. I wish my child…"

"You have a child?"

Of course Tutankhaten had never heard about her descendant. He had been separated from the mortals' children. He could have only played with his own sisters or the close members of the royal family and Maia.

"Yes. But he is ill…very ill."

A sudden and very much dangerous idea popped into the young pharaoh's head.

"Maia, do you want your child to live forever?"

"Of course, sire but I'll be grateful if he lives long enough to see his next birthday."

"I want him to be me and I be him."

For a micro-second, Maia looked at the child, she got that surprised but then she lowered her head again.

"Are you feeling ill, sire? You must be sick. Did you eat something after you went to sleep?"

"I want to switch place with him."

"It's impossible! You're the king, you're Tutankhaten, the new pharaoh. Everybody knows your face."

"Maia, when I was a child, you told me a story about a crystal with magical property. You said…you said you knew where it could be found."

"No, child. You have to forget about it. I don't even remember it."

"Maia, I offer your child an eternal life or you would rather let him die?"

The faint hope of escaping the undoubted death drove Tutankhaten to give upon his wonderful life and the first ray of hope of giving her sick child a second chance to survive the deadly disease led Maia to consider the offer and finally, she agreed. She knew she was about to commit a horrible mistake but at the moment, she was a mother in the first place.

Witnessing the uncertainty in his wet-nurse's eyes, he gathered all his courage and said, "Maia, I ordered you to do it for me…for both of your child and me. I'm the pharaoh, you have to obey!"

The next night Maia carried her feather light child into Tutankhaten's room. She shushed both children silent. The poor boy could hardly sit; he needed support while Tutankhaten was sitting in his bed like a real pharaoh – just as he had taught. Maia closed her eyes and a lonely tear ran down her cheek.

"You sure, oh big and benignant king?"

"Do it!"

"But you have to know one more thing. The moment I pronounce the spell…"

"We have no time for this, Maia! Do it, now!"

The woman gave a marvelous and enticing quartz crystal to her own child. Then she asked both children to wish to switch bodies and minds. And then Maia started to murmur something in ancient Egyptian.

"The adventure now begins, the prize is in another's eyes. When what you see is what you lack and finally you understand the real you and the real him then selfless love and intention will change you back."

The two boys opened their eyes and both were terrified by what they saw. Tutankhaten's soul took residence in the body of Maia's child while the poor boy's soul looked back at Maia through the pharaoh's eyes.

"It's incredible," Tutankhaten said as he was watching his former body. There was something creepy in the situation.

"Oh, god…what I have done…you…you two need to know something…"

But as she was about to share one last important thing, several guards rushed into Tutankhaten's room. One man grabbed the sick-looking child and started to drag out of the room.

"You beggar…how dared to step into this sacred room? You wanted to kill the king! You will die!"

Both Maia and the child shouted their innocence but the guard stopped listening. The man's priority was to protect the pharaoh at all costs.

"Let me go! I AM the king! I AM Tutankhaten! Maia, tell him. Tell him, please!" the miserable boy cried as he was dragged away from the security of the room.

But Maia remained silent. Her own child was alive in the body of Tutankhaten, he was safe and for the first time in her life, Maia placed her child's interest before Tutankhaten's.

Maia covered her ears with her hands and let the men bring the real ruler away. She prayed for him…and for herself.

Maia's son always did what was told to him, returned to the old religion and he never mentioned that horrible night again.

No one had ever figured out that the pharaoh whose name in the meantime had been changed to Tutankhamen had been the wet-nurse's sick child.

No one had ever grieved the real Tutankhaten in foreign body whose dead body had been thrown that dark night into a lonely ditch with the magic crystal in his pocket.

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><p>CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR<p>

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><p><em><strong>2 August 1492, Palos de la Frontera, Spain<strong>_

The next day was going to be a glorious day for the lanky explorer but tonight seemed to be a hard one that was seasoned with a desperate quarrel. Tomorrow the young Christopher Columbus would depart from the local harbor for a long voyage but he wanted to leave in peace knowing that his lady still was his. He loved his woman who was furious at the moment.

"You said we would spend more time together before you leave me again for spending our country's money!" Filipa Moniz Perestrelo cried.

"Filipa, please! I was home for ages."

"You just came home from that dirty Egypt! Why can't you just stay here with me?"

"Because I believe that I was born to sail the oceans to explore new lands for our country. I wish you understood me."

"Well, you are always on trip…only God knows where and you come back to me bringing me some nice knick-knacks or jewels and you expect me to be happy. No! I want you not some crazy crystal. I don't even know what it is."

"I told you. I found it in a grave; I think it was of a child…maybe he stole it…because his neck was broken."

"Great, now you became a grave-robber, oh Christopher…"

"Hey, it wasn't really a grave. I only dug for gold or some precious thing when I found it. I think that child really was a thief or he would have had signed grave. Isn't this crystal beautiful? It's quartz. As wonderful as you are."

Filipa held the crystal and soon she became mesmerized by the mineral. It was so clear, so beautiful and surprisingly warm. The woman smiled at the man at last and Columbus knew that he was forgiven.

"Will you be there tomorrow?" he asked.

"I will wave you good bye. I'll be here when you come back."

Within minutes, Columbus kissed his fiancée's hand and then bided farewell to her parents, too. Because the ship would swim out early next day, Columbus went straight into his bed. His last thought was his bright Filipa. He wished she understood his need for space and freedom.

Back in Filipa's bedroom, the young lady was crying. She loved this man but was not sure if she was as strong as she could wait for him for long months or years perhaps. She held the crystal up high and marveled its beauty. She wished her fiancé knew how she felt, understood her need for connection and stability.

_.  
><em>

_The adventure now begins, the prize is in another's eyes. When what you see is what you lack and finally you understand the real you and the real him then selfless love and intention will change you back._

.

The next day a very bewildered and shy Captain stepped onto the board of Santa Maria. It seemed "he" had forgotten all of his crew's names or the traditional formality of sailing out of the port.

The Captain squeezed the crystal that was given to her last night.

"Oh god, what is happening to me? I'm not him…I'm…me. I have no idea how to maneuver this ship…no one would ever believe me," Filipa whispered to no one.

"Did you say something, sir?" an old sailor asked. "Sir! Captain!"

"Ah..nah. Just…just do your job!"

In the crowd, there was a young "woman" dressed in elegant attire but somehow, a few strips were off. "She" could hardly walk in her high-heeled shoes and her hair was weird.

"I'm cursed…god, I'm cursed. I'm Christopher Columbus and that is MY ship. I'm not…her…I'm…me. Filipa will be lost on the ocean…she will never find the right direction to Asia. Oh, god, she will travel to…land of nowhere."

And this was how the crystal reached the coast of America that had been explored by a brave woman in a man's body. Once, when the crew of Santa Maria had gotten into trouble with a local tribe, Filipa had traded the crystal for their lives. And the quartz crystal started its journey to a far part of North America.

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><p>CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR<p>

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><p><em><strong>1 March 2001 Las Vegas, the USA<strong>_

Horrible cases were always hard to process both professionally and emotionally. The graveyard team had had two depressing cases. Catherine and Warrick had been assigned to piece together and explain someone else's case to the DA. It had been about a case of a fatal shooting coming up to trial. The CSIs' task had been to decide if it had been self-defense or a murder.

The other case had been waiting for Grissom, Sara and Nick to investigate. It had been an attempted murder of a woman found raped, shot in the head and then simply left for dead on the side of the road. Every member of this little team had taken the case hard as the woman had been young and had had the whole world and life before her. Grissom and Nick had had to step up when they had noticed that Sara had showed signs of getting emotionally attached to the victim seriously. She had been spending long hours with searching the internet in order to be able to identify the poor woman so they could inform her relatives. Sara had given the victim a name, Jane. Later, she had tried to explain her choice to Nick when he had mentioned that Sara had been on first-name basis but neither Nick nor Grissom had fallen for the lame explanation.

After many long days, Sara was walking out of the hospital room where she had been talking with Thomas Adler, the husband of the victim who was too tough to die. About mid-way through, she stopped walking. After a moment, with tears in her eyes, she continued leaving the overwhelming building. Sara felt as if she was bitten to faint. She could not think at that moment and did not want to talk at all; however, she needed some comforting words more than anything. She only felt something so painful that the woman thought her heart would split in any minute.

Sara did not know what she hoped for but instead of going home and finally getting some sleep, she headed for the Lab, specifically, for Grissom's office.

In her car, Sara decided that she was going to be strong in front of Grissom as she knew that the man could not handle a crying woman too well. She could keep to her promise right until she knocked on his door and sat into the big chair across the desk from him.

For long minutes, she was just sitting there silently. Grissom did not push her; he waited for her to open up, so he just listened intently to Sara.

"The husband doesn't get it."

And that was it. She broke her promise she had made in her car in the lot at the hospital. Sara started to cry and she could not care about how weak she must look.

"He's so happy she's going to live. He doesn't realize she's going to be in a vegetative state for the rest of her life," her voice broke. "And that kid Thorpe ... is going to be out of juvie in 48 months."

"Sara…"

"It's not fair," she whispered.

Grissom wanted to remain calm as he believed that his calmness would solace her. He was definitely wrong and he realized it the moment he answered Sara.

"It's the system."

"What kind of system rewards the suspect when the victim is too tough to die?"

Grissom had no answer for her. He desperately wanted her to stay even though he could not make her feel better. Simply her presence made him feel better. Grissom was worried about her, more than worried but he seemed helpless in this situation. The supervisor saw Sara standing up and heading for the door but his lips seemed unable to move.

In the nick of time, he stopped her, "Sara!"

Sara stopped and turned back. Her face reflected how much she hoped for Grissom to understand her and feel her pain. Her eyes almost begged for some comforting words.

"Sara ... you got to learn to let this go or you're going to spend all your time in hospitals trying to help the people you couldn't save."

Even a bucket of ice cold water that Grissom would have poured onto her could not have been as painfully disillusive as his words were now. Until now, she was hurt, angry, and desperate but now, she felt so lonely like she had never felt before. In a minute, anger ran through her veins.

"I wish I was like you, Grissom! I wish I didn't feel anything."

And without another word, she left his office. Almost running out of the building, her only wish was to get home, close the door behind her and sink into blissful unconsciousness. She welcomed the rare sleep, at least while sleeping, or the beginning of her sleep, she stopped thinking, stopped suffering.

Sara sought the crystal she had been given one day from Thomas Adler. The grieving man had given the exquisite quartz crystal to Sara. Mr. Adler thought that her wife would be happy to know that her heroine, Sara had it. The quartz had meant a lot to Pamela. According to her husband, Pamela used to be sitting with the mineral in her hand and just watching it for long-long minutes. She had bought it from a homeless child. The mineral had felt warm to Sara and she had wanted to believe that Pamela Adler's soul was in it, so she had accepted the gift.

In her bedroom, the young CSI was crying. She loved Grissom but she was not sure if she was as strong as she could wait for him forever. They had been so close back in San Francisco and now, he had told her this cliché. Why could he not say something like '_Sara, you're right and I'm upset, too but we can't do anything about it. Let's go home and have a drink_' or something? But Sara felt that he had been as cold as a stone. Sara held the crystal up high and marveled its beauty. She wished Grissom knew how she felt, understood what her problem was.

At the same time, Grissom woke up for the thousandth time. Sara's eyes hunted him. He had wanted to hold her, to tell her that everything would be okay, to take her home – into his home and never let her go but again, he had gone into hiding behind his well-practiced mask: detached professionalism. He wished Sara knew how he felt, understood him and his fears, then she would know that he was not an emotionless robot at all. He wished Sara could read his mind rather than his words. He wished Sara saw his naked soul.

_.  
><em>

_The adventure now begins; the prize is in another's eyes. When what you see is what you lack and finally you understand the real you and the real him then selfless love and intention will change you back._

.

Slowly both Sara and Grissom fell into a deep sleep unaware of what had just happened to both of them.

**TBC**


	2. Face to Face

**Title: Wuthering Souls**

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><p><strong>Disclaimers<strong>: Sadly, I do not own anything or anybody related to CSI.

**A/N: **Thank you so much for the awesome and wonderful reviews. You are amazing!

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

_**2 March 2001 at 2 am, Amarna, Egypt**_

Unexpectedly a strong earthquake measuring magnitude 5.9 shook Amarna, the city that had been called Akhetaten many millenniums ago. Since the ancient city had been described as the Aten's by the King Akhenaten, the residents in our days wholeheartedly believed that every tremor that shook the sands under their feet had to be the manifestation of the great God's trample.

Egyptians had to face many destructive earthquakes through their history but this recent one meant more than just a natural catastrophe for some special people.

When the throne had passed to Tutankhamen after his father's death, the young king had chosen Memphis as his main base. His illogical action had been welcomed by many speculative rulers but also had astonished the people. This new king had not reminded the people of King Akhenaten. This child king had been new indeed. Some had been suspicious because they had not understood his decisions. It had been as if Tutankhamen had received a new personality but no one had dared to question the being of a pharaoh. And King Tutankhamen had been the pharaoh.

Although almost all of the residents of Akhetaten had abandoned the city, a handful of priests had stayed there. They had kept believing in the only god, Aten and worshipping the old king, Akhenaten. These few priests had suspected that something dark and vileness must have happened to the new king so they had made an oath that they would restore the original glow of the great kingdom.

In the next few years, they had renamed the city in order to erase their existence. So Amarna had been established. The city was isolated and far enough from the Nile to avoid flooding, and no one had ever built on top of it. The city remained untouched for the posterity. This was how the descendants of the old priesthood were living between the walls of a small temple in Amarna. These noble men kept the ancient rituals and beliefs in hopes they once could see the old values again.

Even though the temple was constructed out of mud-bricks, it was very solid and resistant. Even these hard tremors had failed to inflict significant damage. After the short period of shaking, a middle-aged priest left his shelter and rushed to the High Priest. He was not just over-excited; the man was almost on the edge of hysteria. Before Priest Fadil entered the room to greet the older and most respectful follower of Akhenaten, he had fallen onto his knee to perform the movement of 'henu', the nicest pose in the ritual dance of praise.

"Sire! Sire! You have to come and see…you…you…have to…it's happening, sire! It's happening…again!"

"I know. Aten let me see it today. Maybe this time…at last…"

"Follow me, sire. I'll show you."

Priest Fadil led the High Priest of Akhetaten slowly back to the shrine that revealed the bright fresco that depicted the royal family. The King Akhenaten and Queen Nefertiti were holding hands and were facing their only son, Tutankhaten.

"Oh, dear Aten!" the High Priest said dumbfounded. "Here is the evidence we've been looking for!"

The fresco was broken into two pieces due to the energy released during the earthquakes. There was a huge gap between the figure of Tutankhaten and the royal family. The heir had got separated from his family.

"Now the time came, centuries of doubt and enormity will vanish…the crystal was in someone's hands again…now, we just have to find it and…"

"And break its magic…"

"And turn back time to cure our history and then the world will be perfect again."

"Just as Aten and our fathers always wanted."

"Tell the others to come without delay!"

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><p>CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR<p>

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><p><em><strong>1 March 2001 at 1 pm, Las Vegas, the USA<strong>_

About 7,000 miles away from Amarna, Grissom was sleeping like a baby; however, his rest was interrupted many times by strange and sometimes disturbing images. Whenever a scary scene had woken him up, he had wiped his sweaty forehead, taken some deep breaths then closed his eyes tight and fallen into sleep again hoping for a calmer slumber. Now, he was dreaming one more time but this one was really terrifying for Grissom. In his dream he was running as if he was running for his life but the faster he tried to get away, the slower it seemed he could move. He heard somebody calling him or perhaps screaming a name Grissom knew well but it was all chaotic. The voice seemed to get closer so he tried to run faster but he failed again. And then Grissom woke for a second, he rolled onto his side then pushed his face into the pillow. As soon as he sensed Sara's scent on his pillow, he calmed down right away and subconsciously sank back into his dream. He was still rushing when a hand touched his shoulder from behind.

He wanted to protect himself so he threw a rock toward the faceless threat but it missed its target and landed with a hard thud on the concrete. However, it was only a dream, a loud noise of the landing rock really woke him up completely. This time, Grissom did not want to come back to sleep. He never realized, though, that he had indeed thrown something away while he had been sleeping. The mighty quartz crystal rolled under the drawers hitting the wall. This was in fact that had woken Grissom from his fearsome dream.

"Hell, I need a diversion…" and in the darkness of the room, he laughed. "Don't think Sara for a minute that you win…dreams or not, you need a diversion more than I do."

He sat up in the bed and smelled the bed-linen that reminded him so much of Sara. He smelled it again and immediately, he felt that his blood started to boil. It happened all the time when he heard her name, heard her voice or just heard the slightest thing to do with her…his pulse rate jumped and he went all goosy…then – of course - started to freak out.

"Ok, stop this! It's pretty much inappropriate."

Grissom got out of bed and tapped the floor in order to find his slippers but somehow, they were out of "leg-distance".

"Why is it so dark here? I…I don't remember closing the bedroom drapes…"

He tried to palpate his mobile on the night table right next to his bed to make some light but instead of pushing one of its buttons, he turned on the radio.

"Ah, come on now!"

He let the radio on, at least there was some noise in the house. Grissom headed for the bathroom but on his way out of this room, he bumped into almost everything. Now he was swearing loudly. He made sure that his eyes were open, for a crazy moment, he feared that he went blind as he could not see his own hands in the dark even though they were literally an inch from his face.

In a few minutes that seemed an eternity, Grissom reached the door and finally found the switch. The sudden light in the room revealed its interior but at the same time blinded the man. He covered his eyes with his hands and turned to enter the bathroom.

Grissom had no idea what was waiting for him in that tiny room. After switching on the light, the first thing that he saw was the toilet. A woman surely would look into the mirror first, but a man? Never! For some time, he was just standing there perplexedly. It was not his.

"It's not mine."

Now, he looked around. Foreign bath curtain, foreign tiles…

"These are definitely not mine," he stammered.

….and that beloved face.

Grissom almost fainted at the sight of the reflection in the mirror. He even turned back to see Sara behind him.

"What? Sara?"

He left the bathroom to find the woman who evidently was playing with him. Why did she disappear? And why was he in her home? What had happened? He was sure that he had gone home after work; he sure as hell would remember visiting Sara…

"Sara? Stop this! It's not funny…now…"

When he got no answer, he returned to the bedroom, sat onto the bed and tried to figure out how he had got here.

_.  
><em>

_And now, let's hear the news around the world._

_A strong earthquake near Cairo toppled buildings and caused deadly stampedes of panicked residents. The Government said 120 people were killed, and at least 3,300 people hurt._

_The quake, described as the strongest ever recorded near the Egyptian capital, struck at 2 am local time and lasted 20 seconds. It registered 5.9 on the Richter scale, a gauge of the energy released by an earthquake as measured by ground motion._

_The quake was centered in Amarna, about 170 miles southeast of Cairo, several miles from the pyramids and the Sphinx on the Giza Plateau. The Information Minister, Safwat el-Sherif, said major monuments survived the quake intact._

.

"Poor guys," Grissom pondered. "Sara!" he called again and like earlier, he received no answer this time either, he went back to her bathroom.

The sound of Grissom's scream tore through the silence. It was filled with fear. Did he lose his sanity? He closed his eyes but just as quickly opened them again to see his reflection in the mirror.

"You're Sara…I'm Sara? No! What the hell? Oh my god!"

He leaned closer to touch the mirror and the person it showed followed his movements. Grissom backed off.

"It can't be…no, it must be some freaking dream…I gotta wake up…"

He tried not to look around in Sara's apartment; he believed that it would be disrespectful. Not that sleeping in her bed would be less "intimate". The agitated man climbed into the bed and wrapped his body tight with her blanket. Her scent did not help him calming down at all.

"Ok. Close your eyes, and sleep…S-L-E-E-P!"

Grissom did his best to fall asleep but it was a mission impossible. After one or two minutes, he got up and went to open the drapes and then the window. He needed fresh air.

He began checking his pulse while keeping an eye on the clock on the wall. He calculated his heart rate while was breathing loudly. He feared that he was going to black out. The man leaned against the window frame.

"102. Damn it! Now I know that I'm about to panic."

Grissom leaned over the sill and breathed deeply to calm himself. Grissom was a scientist and what had happened to him seemed so unbelievable that even he could not explain it and this shook his confidence. Probably he would never admit it to anyone but he was on the edge of crying so he covered his face with his hands.

"Jesus! My face became so soft…hell, it's not my face!"

Curiosity took over his earlier fear. If her skin was so soft on her face…Did he have the right to check her skin elsewhere?

"Her neck? Just her neck…no lower…"

And yes, the skin on her neck was even softer, literally velvety. Grissom could not help but slide his hand lower. He tried to explain his courage with the dream theory. If it was a dream…which evidently must be – he argued – then he would never have another chance to feel her…shapes. Very slowly he touched the breasts.

"Oh, I'm sorry Sara! I didn't mean to…um…I touched them by accident," his face turned into deep purple.

As nothing had happened, no one had slapped him in the face, he touched them again, with a little more confidence.

"Hey, lonely baby! Having fun? Go on!" a guy from a window of the opposite apartment block whistled and shouted.

Grissom had never felt more humiliated than he was feeling now. With light speed, he disappeared from the open window. What had he been thinking? It was Sara's body. He could not do such a thing like touching it. It felt like harassment.

"Gilbert! You're an adult man, a serious supervisor…in Sara's body…now, I'm officially insane."

He started pacing the room. He had to cook out something and soon because as he looked at the clock, in two hours, Sara and he had to be at work. And this was the moment when another problem arose.

"If I'm here," he laughed but his laughter lacked any humor, "Where is my body? And is it Sara who lives in it?"

He thought of calling Sara but then he imagined the conversation.

"_Hi!"_ First problem: How to call her? Sara or Grissom. But he was in her home, in her body… So if he indeed went nuts and he only imagined that he was in Sara's body, he could not call the body of Grissom Sara. Problem solved. So again:

"_Hi Grissom!"_ Second problem: if it was not a sick dream…and Sara lived in his body miles away from here, then Sara must think the same…so she must think she went crazy, too and she probably was not going to reveal her real personality if he call her and name her Grissom because she would think there was no problem with me just with her. Too complicated. Who was who and who knew what?

Telephone was a no-no. Then what? Grissom was so nervous and agitated that he started sweating profoundly. He looked at the clock and saw that they still had one and a half hours until work. He decided to visit himself…Sara.

Sara was always fresh and smelled amazing. He looked at his new body and freaked out. He had to have a shower before leaving…and shower meant…

**TBC**


	3. Iron Bird to Aten

**Title: Wuthering Souls**

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><p><strong>Disclaimers<strong>: Sadly, I do not own anything or anybody related to CSI.

**A/N: **I don't know, just hope that you still remember this story and me after all this time. I didn't plan to disappear but I have no other excuse just the typical: real life played tricks on me…but this time, it seems it lost its energy, so it stopped making my life difficult. So I am back and full of vim and vigor!

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

_**1 March 2001 at 2 pm, Las Vegas, the USA, Grissom's townhouse**_

Headache. Massive pain. Sara Sidle did not often wake up to a killing headache but it seemed this day would be one of those rare ones. She simply was not able to open her eyes yet. Bright sunshine filled up the room that normally would mean a new and fresh beginning but not today. Sara tried to turn onto her side but even a slight movement hurt. It was not something she had been used to. The woman was used to pain, she remembered how a broken bone could hurt, she knew how the heart could bleed from sorrow but this pain was new. At least new in its intensity. _Could a migraine hurt like this?_ she was wondering. Could it be like Grissom's pain when a migraine hit him full force?

"No!" she hit the bed-sheet with her fist as she croaked. "Grissom again …everything is about him…him…him!"

It was maddening that her last and first thoughts were that certain man who most probably was sleeping like a baby in his bed and was not worrying about her or about her agitated feelings. This resurfacing anger gave Sara some strength to open her eyes so she could get up.

As she sat up, Sara wanted to open her eyes but it was too bright in the room. She did not even understand why because her room was always like a black hole that lacked even a slight ray of light at sleep time. Had she been that stressed out to close the bedroom drapes? No, she remembered closing them and then going to bed, she could recall everything she had done. The sad feelings about Pamela Adler, Grissom's cruel or rather said emotionless words and the crystal she had been holding before crying herself into slumber.

At the thought of that mineral, Sara opened her eyes to find it but at that moment her breath caught in her chest. There was nothing that could prevent her from looking around. Neither the headache nor the blinding light. She did not recognize anything. Panic was developing in the room instantly.

"What the…hell?"

Sara got up quickly and got dizzy as she was trying to solve this mystery. She thought she remembered everything and now she was in a stranger's home. Another strike of headache attacked her that made her close her eyes again but the young woman felt tears welled up and started to fall over.

"This can't be happening…and talking to myself is never a good sign either," she whispered.

She tentatively looked right and then left but did not recognize anything. Then suddenly a tiny plastic box caught her eyes. It said 'Prescribed for Gil Grissom, born 17 Aug 1956'. His medicine for migraine.

"It's impossible!" she stammered and stayed in bed waiting for the inescapable and humiliating walk of shame. "How did I get here at all?"

After a few seconds, Sara was unable to just sit there so she left the bed that smelled so good and…Grissom and walked toward a room she suspected was the bathroom.

In sense of guilt, she looked at her toes like a little child who did something bad and another shock hit her. She was wearing pajama-bottom. Pajamas? She never slept in pajamas. And those toes seemed so unfamiliar…

"Hairy toes?"

Sara had no much time to ponder on it as she looked up and the first thing she looked at was the mirror on the wall. She had expected to see the embarrassed Sara Sidle but the person who was looking back at her was a man who mysteriously reminded her of Gil Grissom.

For a long minute, she was just standing there not even dared to move or breathe. The man did the same. She blinked…so did the man. She moved…so did Grissom.

Probably, an average person would scream in this situation but Sara was standing there and trying to comprehend what she was experiencing.

"If there is the 'he'…then where is the 'she'?"

Sara slowly inched toward the reflection that was supposed to be her but apparently was Grissom. At the very same time, Grissom seemed to approach her, too. His look was terrified and suspicious.

Sara touched the mirror and some kind of a warm feeling flooded her. Grissom's eyes radiated warmness, too and soon a loving smile appeared on his face. The sudden happiness caused slight pain in Sara's heart so she gripped the T-shirt above her heart. Grissom did the same.

Sara tore her stare from him and looked down to her hand and the spell was broken. She touched flat chest, she felt muscular breast. It was not hers…just like the loving smile was not his either. Her short lived happiness was only an illusion.

She looked back into the mirror and this time, she got afraid. What the hell is going on, she asked wordlessly. She knew who she was but it seemed what she saw now was an illusion. Illusion or insanity. So many times she had imagined that she would wake up in his bed or that Grissom would look back at her in the mirror but now it felt rather disturbing than thrilling.

Even though the realization in the bathroom scared her, she did not want to wake up from this dream. It felt so real…it felt so unique. And as it was only a dream, she thought, why not to enjoy it a little longer. Mischievous chuckle left Sara's mouth.

"Well, Mr. Grissom…in my dream I can do anything to you…with you," she told her own reflection. "Did you say something? No? Well…smile!"

And as Sara laughed, her reflection laughed too. "See? It's not that difficult."

"Now, tell me that I was right with the Adler case!"

Nothing happened.

"You can nod," she played and Grissom nodded.

Sara loved this game and driven from sudden braveness, she ordered Grissom to strip.

Again, nothing happened.

This time, Sara did not smile either. Grissom did not want to show her his body…not even in her dream. She played with the thought of offering that she was going to show him her naked body first but then she saddened hopelessly.

"I won't force you, Grissom. Now I can wake up," she said and waited for the even sadder wake-time to come.

The woman waited and waited but the feared reality never came. She went back to his bedroom and called for him but no one answered. Slowly walking to the window, she looked through it. Everything appeared so real. The noises, the people and the wind. She now wanted to wake up, it all felt very surreal. Her being in Grissom's house felt inappropriate. Even the window-pane mirrored Grissom's face so she stepped back immediately.

Sara started to panic so she sat on the edge of his bed and tried to calm herself by burying her face into her hands. She felt that her skin was rough and she had much shorter hair. As she finally looked at her hands she realized that they were not feminine. They were _his_ hands…not hers.

She ran back to the bathroom to see who she was at last and this time, she did not feel laughing. Once again in an hour, she was just standing there staring at the figure in the mirror. It was him or was it her in his body?

"What the hell is going on? Is it like being insane? Am I crazy? It is impossible! Why would it be impossible? It would not be unheard of in your family."

She could hardly breathe, "Sara! You're an adult woman, a serious CSI…in Grissom's body…now, I'm officially insane."

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><p>CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR<p>

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><p><em><strong>2 March 2001 at 11 am, Amarna, Egypt<strong>_

Raining. In Egypt, water was always a welcomed and precious gift from the gracious Aten. And it was raining in Amarna for hours. Right after the surface had again fallen into a slumber, the first cold drop of water had hit the ground providing rejuvenation for all creatures in the ancient city of Akhetaten.

In the dim room, there were only a few candles that gave some light. The mystic paintings on the walls were dancing in mysterious light and it made the feeling for the priests standing around the imposing altar that the figures in the frescos came to life. The yellow disk on the highest wall with rays reaching to the earth looked like the Sun on fire. At the end of each ray there were hands depicted which extended the ankh to the pharaoh. In the middle of the disk, there was a huge eye. As the candle light kissed the wall, the eye was shining like nothing could shine in the world. No one dared to look straight into it.

The High Priest was spreading his arms wide and keeping them up high with his palms facing the excellence picture of Aten. All the twelve priests were now on their knees on the other side of the altar keeping their eyes strictly on the ground.

"Aten, thou lord of beams of light, when thou shinest, all faces live," the High Priest started. "We all came together now to get prepare to give thou the thing we most care for in all the world. We hold out our bodies and souls on humble tray, oh noble Aten. Thou re-birth in every sunrise and die in every sunset, thou so merciful, thou so eternal."

The priests knew that they were allowed to stand up now and their discussion was going to start soon. Their desire and intention of recovering the original glory of Aten were so strong that they were ready to do anything and everything. What Maia – Tutankhaten's wet-nurse – had started thousand and thousand years ago had torn the glorious kingdom apart ruining the balance in life. Until the balance set back, no human could find peace, no one could find honest solace or love.

"It's happening again…we all know that. Aten showed me last night and revealed it to you at dawn. Now, we were given a new chance to prove our Majesty our devotion and love," he continued.

"We are working tirelessly to cleanse the world of all its evil practices and magic," one priest added.

"Our time is ticking. The crystal…it possesses two souls again. Its shining stole the shining of the Sun not respecting Aten, therefore those who held and used the crystal are suspicion of treason."

"We must find them," they yelled, "we must punish them and destroy the crystal once and for all."

"But we failed all the time we tried," one shouted.

"We have no right to fight our fate. We have to find them. But now we didn't even know where to start to look for them."

There was only one priest who had remained on the ground sitting while the others had risen to stand after the High Priest's speech. This man was six feet, 4 inches tall with shoulders wide enough to block any attack. But no star athlete would ever wish for such a defect he had. He rather looked like someone who was in the shadow of death. His skin was pale, almost translucent and his eyes lacked the usual sparkle that every living person had. Priest Selim had never seen what the world looked like. But he saw things only could be seen by mind and spirit.

Priest Selim lifted his head for the first time after he had been escorted in the chamber, "Fake bird will take you to fake home…where nothing is what it looks like."

"Did you see a dream again?" the High Priest turned to the blind man.

"Iron bird salutes Aten and takes you to a far land where sin rules. They have pyramids but they are all deceitful. They don't know Aten, however our Majesty shows his power every day to them."

"Where is this place?"

"Too far…it's a young land without history…but owns every pride of us. They built pyramids but don't know Aten, they even have the Great Sphinx and they don't fear looking into his eyes."

"Then we are going to find this young country, tame the iron bird and order him to take us to this city of sin."

"Find a man with strong will and a woman with stronger mind but be careful!" Priest Selim murmured.

"You will join Priest Fadil in the adventure and do not return until the crystal is destroyed."

"How to punish the fallen?"

When the High Priest mimed the priests to silence the two, Priest Fadil asked, "With your Highness's permission?"

"Granted. And now, be ready for the journey."

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><p>CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR<p>

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><p><em><strong>1 March 2001 at 6 pm, Las Vegas, the USA, Grissom's townhouse<strong>_

In twenty minutes, Sara needed to leave for work but she still was sitting on the floor with _his_ mobile phone in her hands. She had dialed her own number many times but the other end of the call had never answered. Sara had hoped that if it had really been only a surreal dream and she would had been really her, then the sane Sara would had picked up the phone as she always did. But this hope had vanished after many vain attempts of calling herself.

Whenever she had tried _his_ number, the line had signaled busy…Then she had dialed _his_ land line number and the phone had started to ring next to her. She had wanted a bottle of beer but had found only water and scotch. Sara hated scotch; it was Grissom's favorite drink…and what else to find in his own home.

At last, Sara got up from her little spot and took a deep breath, "If I'm here, then where are you, Grissom?"

It was a weird feeling that even "her" voice was not hers but his. At first, she had been talking a lot to enjoy his voice but then it had lost its funny side. His voice still warmed her but now she had to concentrate on the time passed.

"I need to get ready…I need to change clothes…I need to take a shower…but shower means…don't panic Sara…probably this was your last time you can see him naked…but it's like harassment…"

Sara Sidle was on the edge of crying when she could hear the doorbell. She paced the room, she wanted to hide but somebody was determined enough.

She tiptoed to the door and very-very carefully caressed the spy-hole lid to the side. Without blinking, she peeked through it and felt she was going to faint.

"Can't be happening," she whispered at the sight of _herself_ on the other side of the door.

**TBC**


	4. The Rules

**Title: Wuthering Souls**

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><p><strong>Disclaimers<strong>: Sadly, I do not own anything or anybody related to CSI.

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

_**2 March 2001 at 5 am, Las Vegas, the USA, McCarran International Airport**_

One pair of eyes was scanning the wavers and the ravers, the weepers and the greeters at the foreign country's airport. As they were standing in the long bustling terminal, both priests could sense the excitement of passengers waiting to be flown to their far flung dream destination but neither could share their thrill.

Around them, a mass of passengers boarding a flight was advised to check in at Gate 11. Then, there was another announcement asking all the passengers to a certain flight to check in at Gate 7 with their boarding passes. Almost at the same time, there was that crazy rush across the lounge where the young and stronger could make it easily jumping over the seats while mothers with children became hectic fearing of losing a child or some hand baggage, the old and the infirm almost lost all hope of boarding the flight in time. When finally they all checked in, there came the next announcement saying the flight was delayed by 30 minutes for some "technical reasons". For the priests of no pretension, the whole scene seemed rather a jungle fight for surviving than a civilized and organized traffic.

"Well, Hem-netjer Selim, it's nothing like our home, nothing like the vision you described," Priest Fadil said.

"You have only eyes for perception and these eyes might deceive you. You have ears but they also fail to hear. Sometimes truth is beneath reality. Use your heart to see and hear and then feel."

"Then guide me because I got lost in this deceiving world."

"Don't fear the unknown, our only God of Aten will show us the road to the crystal. Believe Hem-netjer Fadil, believe and never doubt."

Priest Fadil took Priest Selim's arm and they slowly walked toward the exit. They had no suitcases, only two small haversacks were hiding their personal belongings and a few golden goblets and one golden ring with a ruby. There had been no problem at the security check as no one had wished to go through a priest's sack. And there was no doubt about that these men were priests. Both were wearing white linen and sandals made from papyrus as all animal products were considered unclean. They used a special kind of eyeliner called kohl to protect their eyes from sunlight. This make-up was important due to the direct sunlight so typical in Egypt. No one found their attire weird or unusual; it was Las Vegas after all where everything was possible.

The two poor men left the building and started to walk toward the city center. They had no map, still knew where they should head. There was about a 10-mile walk ahead of them but in Egypt, no one would consider it as a significant distance. After five minutes, a car slowed down and then stopped.

"Hey! Soon it'll be warm and walking in heat must be freaking suck, jump in, buddies, I'll take you two on a bit."

_In heat?_ Priest Fadil was wondering. The High Priest had told them that the weather in the USA was almost as pleasant as in Amarna. However, they knew that the temperature could spring up to 72-75 °F soon but it could not be hot. Or did Americans use 'heat' for another word? he did not know. At the moment the weather was quite chilly for the under-clothed priests.

"We can't pay for it, sire," one of the priests apologized.

"Sire? Holy shit, what are you on, guys? You don't have to pay. Now, will you come or not?"

The two Egyptians would not have minded walking but they knew well from experience that time was essential regarding their success in finding the crystal. In the course of history, their elders had failed many times to get the magic quartz crystal back. So the priests gratefully accepted the offer and got into the car.

"So I guess you're tourists, huh?"

"No, sire."

"Well, then you missed the costume ball. It was in February, no one told you?" he laughed.

The driver saw that his attempt at humor did not really make a hit so he remained silent instead. The next ten minutes went by more slowly than each party would have appreciated. The car slowed down once again and the funny guy parked it by the pavement.

"Well, sires, the cab terminates here," he laughed. "I'm home."

"We are utmost grateful for your generosity. You will be given abundant merit."

Both priests took a bow and backed off the car. The driver shook his head. _"Take care of yourselves crazy buddies, this city is full of crazy people and you won't even recognize them…"_ he murmured after their departure.

"Where are we going to sleep?" Priest Fadil asked.

"Let our fate decide. Can you see them now?"

"What should I see?"

"Then we ought to continue our walk until you see them."

"But give me a clue!"

"When you see our false home…"

And at that moment Priest Fadil understood. For the first time after their iron bird had landed, the priest looked around, really looked around. The blind priest knew they had arrived by the strong squeeze on his arm. There were not enough adjectives to adequately describe the sight Priest Fadil was actually marveling. It was like being at home.

Almost.

Priest Fadil blinked many times but a gorgeous pyramid encased in dark bronze shining material was before them, right in front of them. How was it possible? None of the pyramids he knew looked like this. All of them in Egypt were built of rock and not glass. No wonder the ones in Egypt were still standing, he thought. And the traffic lines…they were like colored ants moving in unison, moving riots. The entire city was a motion of noises and color that seemingly lacked any logic. Hardly surprising that Americans could only build such a small pyramid in this chaos, Priest Fadil was pondering.

Slowly, almost tentatively they walked closer to the mysterious structure. Another miracle greeted them.

"Hem-netjer Selim, we found Aten! I can see one of his rays petrified in front of a huge glittering pyramid. But there is only one. There should be two!"

"See? I said nothing is what it looks. Don't let your eyes fail you. We are not at home here. We are on a mission in this false Egypt. Aten owns infinite rays of sun but these people have only one. It can't be Aten."

"And just as in your vision, I can see the great Sphinx."

"Don't look into his eyes!"

"I wouldn't dare. Let's go closer, I need to touch him."

Even though both men knew they were not real, the closeness of the symbols of their history reassured them. They placed their sacks onto the pavement and went to express their respect to the one God Aten. They closed their eyes and murmured some words in Egyptian.

The next time they opened their eyes, Priest Fadil realized that their sacks were missing. In his panic, he jumped up and looked around. He saw two young men running away with their belongings.

"Hey! Give our sacks back!" and then he started to run after them.

"Fadil! Let them…let them go!"

Priest Selim concentrated on the noises he could detect in order to understand the happenings but there were too many noises. At the same time, he could feel the tension in the air. And suddenly, nothing could be heard as if the time had just stopped. The blind priest tried to find his fellow priest but he failed to locate him.

"Call 911," a stranger shouted. His voice was getting louder as he continued shouting. "Are you hurt, sir?"

"Hem-netjer Fadil!"

"Sir, please calm down. Help is on the way."

Mixed noises of ambulance and police sirens could be heard in the distance. Within a few minutes, the sirens stopped screaming. Priest Selim heard cars parking and people shouting.

"Sir? I'm Jim Brass from Las Vegas Police Department. Are you hurt?"

"No, sire," he answered in his weird accent that made Brass grimace. The captain had been on his way back to the PD when he had heard the police scanner. Not being a linguist, he now wished he had continued driving.

"Could you tell us what happened?"

"Could you tell me how Hem-netjer Fadil is, please?"

"He is in good hands, sir. Can I ask your name?"

"Selim Halles-Ahmad Kazim."

"Well, Selim Ha…um…" Brass was not good at memorizing names, let alone long ones. He looked around embarrassed and became relieved when he spotted his two CSIs.

If Brass had not known them for long, he would have believed that they had done something wrong. Both Sara and Grissom seemed hesitating, even shy. Their movements were…guarded. Grissom smiled at the paramedics that surprised Brass in the first place. Sara, on the other hand, was cold and distant. The woman walked upright to Brass and the victim.

"So what have we got?"

"Good morning to you, too, Sara. Gil let you lead?"

"What? Why would…no, she…I mean…_I_…um…he leads…I'm just tired you know and I wanted to start…"

"Grissom!" Brass called but the man failed to listen.

When the man got close, he smiled at Brass and welcomed him, "Hello Jim."

"Well, that's new. A nice Gil and a peevish Sara…now, this will be interesting."

Sara immediately realized what had just happened. The real Grissom had never been as sweet to anybody as she was in his body now. No wonder Brass got surprised by "his" behavior. But she did not want to be rude to anybody just because Grissom was…well, Grissom. But she had no choice; this was not her body or her life…not now at least.

"Are we going to do our job or we came together here for a chat party?" she said in Grissom-ish style.

"Now, this is the Grissom I know," Brass giggled.

"Mr. Selim…um…this is Gil Grissom," immediately the woman nodded. "Well," Brass was looking at them disconcertedly. As it was obvious that the victim could not see anything, Brass did not correct the situation. "And this is Sara Sidle."

This time, the correct body nodded. Brass left the two of them with the poor priest so they could talk. He thought that he could record his statement later after the dust settled between the CSIs.

"Would you please excuse us for a minute?" feminine voice sounded.

The woman took the man's arm and pulled him aside. They tried to keep their voice low but they both were agitated. Neither paid attention to the blind priest whose hearing was extremely delicate.

"We agreed!"

"I know, I'm sorry, this is all new for me."

"You shouldn't be that informal at work…with those paramedics…you were even flirty…I'm not that… coquettish."

"Excuse me? I was only kind. Nothing less, nothing more…I can't be like you…as it seems. I can't change over night!"

"You have to try…until we solve this crazy…"

"Really? I didn't choose your body! I didn't choose this life either! I want mine back!"

"We agreed!"

Neither Grissom, nor Sara heard the Egyptian prayer to Aten, "O sole god without equal! You are alone, shining in your form of the living Aten. Risen, radiant, distant and near who let us see what only you can see…"

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><p>CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR<p>

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><p><em><strong>Earlier... 1 March 2001 at 6 pm, Las Vegas, the USA, Grissom's townhouse<strong>_

Sara was agonized but looking at the clock on the wall, she was grateful for Pamela Adler. That case had forced Grissom, Sara and Nick to work overtime so they were allowed to start their next shift much later than usual. Still, the time for leaving the safe place was coming unstoppably.

"I need to get ready…I need to change clothes…I need to take a shower…but shower means…don't panic Sara…probably this was your last time you can see his body naked…but it's like harassment…"

Sara Sidle was on the edge of crying when she heard the doorbell. She paced the room, she wanted to hide but somebody was determined enough to keep pushing the bell-button.

She tiptoed to the door and very-very carefully caressed the spy-hole lid aside. Trying not to blink, she peeked through it and was sure that she was going to faint.

"Can't be happening," she whispered at the sight of _herself_ on the other side of the door.

Outside, the female figure looked as terrified as Sara felt. She took it as a good sign that maybe just maybe she had not lost her mind after all.

Instinctively, she wanted to adjust her hair but her fingers did not find hair where it should be. Her pulse rate increased dramatically at the returning feeling of panic. She combed the short hair she had inherited from Grissom then smoothed her hand over her cheek that felt pretty stubbly.

"Fuck, I'm going to cry," she whimpered but the doorbell shook her up from her misery.

She straightened her spine and turned back to the door to open it but not before she had a quick glance in the mirror and acknowledged that she looked acceptable. She had no time for examining her motive for wishing to look good as this time a bang landed on the door.

"Open the door, Sa…Grissom!" he realized immediately that he could not be one hundred percent sure that he had not gone crazy, so he tried to remain calm and as polite as Sara would be if she came to him. Not that it would happen after what I said to her, he thought.

His own name felt so foreign on his lips but he had to start his say from the beginning again, "Grissom, are you at home?"

"Patience," she answered from inside.

New hope was born in Grissom's eyes. He had always taken the key out of the keyhole for sleep time because he had believed that a key forgotten in door could prevent the firefighters from entering in emergency. And Sara evidently did not know this that was why she could not open the door.

"So…perhaps, I'm not crazy after all," he murmured silently to himself and slowly a smile graced his face. As quickly as that smile had formed on his face, it faded with the same vehemence when the lock bowed to the key. And yet she knew where the keys were…or had she just found them? Would not have been a big challenge, they had been next to the door hung on a nail. So Grissom could not be absolutely sure who he was…again.

In the next moment, a beautiful face with haunted brown eyes looked fixedly at a handsome one with blue eyes. Neither could say a word, neither could look away but both wanted to get their old lives back.

_Say something! Oh…I should let you in…_"Um…want to come in?"

_Of course I do, this is my home_. "Thanks."

_Well, this is your house so what should I say? To make yourself home?_ "Can I get you anything?"

_A coffee would be nice really but you don't even know where the coffee is…oh…let's see if you are just playing, my dear._ "A coffee…if it's not a…"

"No, give me a second…" Sara pretended to be calm and tried to act naturally as she was seeking for the coffee jar but she had no idea where he stored it.

_It's in the fridge, Sara. Oh, come on…not there…cold…still cold._ Grissom started to smile, slight sadism in him enjoyed Sara's fight for control but it was evident that she was hopelessly lost in his kitchen. Grissom had trouble meeting Sara's eyes, though. It was like to look into a mirror; still, it gave him the opportunity to see what Sara could see when she looked at him every time. Well, his mood sank immediately. Could a beautiful and young woman…would a woman like Sara see anything in him to wake up her interest…her love? He doubted.

"Damn, I think I ran out of coffee," she stammered. "How about a glass of…um…" _Shit, it wouldn't be bad if I knew what that fridge contains._

She hurried to his fridge and opened its door to see what kind of drink she could pour for him. The first thing she – and Grissom – spotted was a huge jar of coffee. Another smile appeared on his face while Sara's face reddened deeply.

_Busted_.

"Sara, we both know why I am here."

"You…you called me Sara?"

In a second, Grissom lost his courage. Was she still playing her part or he had indeed gone crazy? He could not do it any longer. He was not good at handling suspense.

Sara's gaze was entirely focused on the face that until this night it had been hers. The face that had showed so many – usually unwanted and not appreciated– emotions now mirrored nothing. Its expressions' were like Grissom's not Sara's. This feminine face reflected neutral emotions, it was like a stone. Only the eyes betrayed its owner. This expressionless state of her face and body scared Sara. She had always hated her tears but at least they had been hers and had showed that she had been alive. It was shocking to see _herself_ this way.

"You…you stole my emotions," she panicked and wiped a tear away.

From that very moment, Grissom knew that they both were experiencing the same surreal and impossible situation. He knew himself. He could not let himself cry this easily and not with only one tear. It showed him Sara's inner fight. It was so typically her.

"Sara, we need to talk…I…I have no idea how…but I believe…"

When Sara realized that she could hide her secret no longer from the truth, from him, she stopped sniffling. The blue eyes were totally focused on the female body. The slender figure seemed to be waiting for something. Of course, the old problem again, no matter what body he lived in. Grissom was coward to name the problem. But now he had to.

"You believe what?"

"You know what."

And again, she let him off the hook, "Something happened last night."

"Yes. I'm no longer myself."

"And I'm no longer me. How can this…this thing be?"

"I still can't believe it. I'd rather be crazy, at least that would be explicable…somehow, but this is simply crazy and impossible."

"Look, Grissom. I'm not ready to get out of this house…yet…so I'll sure be late from work, I…I messaged Catherine to cover for me until I arrive there. But I believe that we won't get away with this. What's more, no one will believe us but honestly, I don't want anyone to know about this."

"Did you…um…did you do something…I don't know, something unusual last night that might explain this?" he gestured the situation between them.

"What do you mean? Murmur some sick spell but I screwed it up? Maybe you forgot it but I am a scientist, too. But anyway, did you ask the same question to you, too?"

"Look, I didn't mean to hurt you but something must have happened…and I just can't understand what! Science answers every question and in our case I am not able to form the question itself!" he started to become agitated but Sara misunderstood his demonstration of turmoil.

"You are in doubts? And what about me? I was the one who had to wake up to…um…so…"

"What?"

"Nothing. It was just not easy to wake up…as a man, and stress can't help either," she murmured angrily and her face was as red as a hot chili.

The moment her face started to redden, Grissom knew what difficulty Sara was referring to. It was natural for him to wake up with an erection but it had been bloody new for Sara. What a sobering awakening. In spite of the shame he was feeling, Grissom could not help but smirk at the situation.

"Well, welcome to my world, Sara!"

His sympathy was "moving" and Sara felt her anger resurface. "You live your life…up high…very often."

The conversation suddenly hit a touchy field with that Grissom was not comfortable. The fact that Sara had experienced such an intimate aspect of being a man made him vulnerable. And she did not wear the same clothes either. The thought of Sara getting dressed after she had got up…in every possible meaning of the word…what a shame, he thought. What should she think? Had she found his body too old, too baggy, nothing worthy to love? He desperately wanted to escape this conversation. Work was always a secure topic.

"Look, as you said we have no time to discuss this now, moreover, we are already hopelessly late from work but after shift, we have to sit down and examine this situation. We need to find a way out of it."

"Can't we call in sick?"

"The team is shorthanded already. Cath can cover our ass for some time but…"

"Good for her. I fell into trap in your body but I can't call in…"

"We should set up some rules," he suggested tentatively.

"What rules? I won't give myself a promotion if you are worried about that."

"No. Please, Sara. It is as hard for me as it is for you. Not easy for any of us. Do you think it was a dream of me to be in your shoe? But if I can make sacrifices then I rightly expect the same from you, don't you think?"

_Do I think it was a dream of his to be in my shoe? Why is it so horrible to be me? Am I that awful?_ Sara became devastated by his words. So living in her body meant a huge sacrifice on his part…of course, what else. So she silently sat down opposite him and listened to the man while keeping her eyes strictly on the table.

"Alright, just quickly, okay?"

She nodded.

"First, everybody thinks you are me. Then behave like a supervisor. I know you don't really like Ecklie but please keep in mind that you are in my body."

She swallowed hard but nodded.

"Secondly, when giving out assignments, Catherine has priority; give the smaller cases to Nick and Warrick."

"And to you, I guess."

He swallowed but nodded.

"And the last one for now. Don't flirt with Greg or the other colleagues. Remember, your body is mine…I mean your body is not yours at the moment."

"Well, let me summarize your rules. I'm so incompetent that I would be a complete jerk with Ecklie and would cover dearest Cath with decomp cases and to top all this I'm a flirt… Then let me outline my rules, shall we?"

"I didn't mean 'mine' that way," Grissom apologized. He only wanted to help her to be him and did not really understand why she became hurt.

"Of course you didn't. But just in case. First, you have to smile when you see someone familiar or else the nosy ones will ask questions you wouldn't want to hear, let alone answer them, secondly, you have to try to be impartial with Cath or else she will think I am on some kinda drug or worse, she'll find out right away who you are. And the last one, you can flirt with anybody as no one claims my heart but just in case, keep in mind that your body is originally mine and I want it back."

_Cath'll find out right away who I am? What does she insinuate? I would favor Cath?_

_And the last one, I can flirt with anybody as no one claims her heart? She thinks her heart is unwanted? But I would love to have it, she doesn't know it, really can't feel it?_ Grissom was devastated by her words.

"But actually, I don't think any of us needs to worry about our sex lives," Sara said then winked.

"Of…of course," he answered. _I wouldn't do that to you._

"Because in each other's body we would look…um…you know…me…in your body with a woman…I'm not lesbian and I doubt you would appreciate me having sex with a guy as it would make you a gay. So, please, do the same favor to me, alright?" _I wouldn't cheat on you anyway._

"I wish we were over this shift."

Later, Grissom and Sara were standing at Grissom's huge car arguing. Since it was Grissom's vehicle, for him it was evident that he was going to drive it. But Sara argued that in their situation, she must drive the car to the scene they had been called to five minutes ago. She said they needed to keep up the formalities. Reluctantly, Grissom let Sara drive the SUV.

They were almost there when Sara parked the car at a drugstore. "Just a minute."

Grissom was not very happy with the situation and now, Sara was stalling or at least for him it seemed that way. Earlier he had wished the shift had been over but evidently they were going to arrive at the scene by the end of it. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the first few situations at the crime scene.

'_Two priests, under-clothed. One injured, one blind. Presumably robbery. Something is off.'_

He was grateful for the fact that at least no one was dead. Rare outcome in his field of profession. From time to time, thought, his thoughts returned to his condition. His and Sara's. After shift they were going to need to go through all the tiny details they had done before sleep. He felt that the answer was in their actions.

"Okay, we can go!"

She gave Grissom a small package of even smaller boxes.

"What are these?"

His eyes could not have been wider. There were boxes of tampons and pads. Panic and realization flooded him.

"Well, you will need them in two days…plus-minus one day. What did you say back then? Welcome to my world!"

**TBC**


	5. Arrangements

**Title: Wuthering Souls**

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><p><strong>Disclaimers<strong>: Sadly, I do not own anything or anybody related to CSI.

**A/N:** Well, this chapter was written and ready for posting for a while now but after what had happened in FMN (even though I couldn't watch it…yet, the news were enough)…my body, my mind, my heart and my passion became so numb, I couldn't bring myself to read, let alone write stories :(. But then, the dust settled down a little and slight hope seemed to arise on the horizon. Funny, how faint hint of hope can fuel my passion again. So I decided that GSR is alive! Must be :)

So here is the fifth chapter, and if you like it, please let me know because as they say, it makes me happy :)

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

_**2 March 2001 at 8 am, at the Luxor Casino-Hotel, Las Vegas, the USA**_

It was hard not to notice that the supervisor and his subordinate were on different page. Even they tried to keep their voices down as much as their passion made it possible, their gestures and tones revealed the real situation for those who cared enough to watch or listened to them.

"You have to try…until we figure out this crazy…"

"Really? I didn't choose your body! I didn't choose this life either! I want mine back!"

"We agreed!"

Neither Grissom nor Sara heard the prayer in Egyptian to the Aten, "O sole god without equal! You are alone, shining in your form of the living Aten. Risen, radiant, distant and near who let us see what only you can see…"

If Sara and Grissom had not tried so desperately to be private and enigmatic, probably no one would have paid attention to their tactful arguing but it was in human nature that whenever one heard whispering, they automatically started eavesdropping. And for the priest who had only his ears to perceive the happenings around, this arguing was like a whisper right into his ear.

"Splendid you rise in heaven's lightland, o living Aten, creator of life! You are gracious, great, glistering and high overhead. Your rays embrace the lands to the limit of all that you made. Though you are far, your rays are on earth. Though one sees you, your strides are unseen. Your rays caress our land. But at night, Earth is in darkness as if in death; one sleeps in chambers, heads covered, one eye does not see another. Were they robbed of their goods that are under their heads but people would not remark it. Light the way, mark the way, let me find the crystal, help me destroy it, o living Aten, show me, show me…you witness it all…"

"Would this be your statement, sir?" Brass asked Priest Selim trying to disguise his discomfort in front of this weird man.

"Sorry?"

"I heard you murmuring something, I thought…"

The first thought Priest Selim wanted to voice was that most people tried humor when they did not understand something but he was in a foreign country after all so he was willing to give the proper respect to its residents.

"I was just praying…" he stopped for a second. He highly doubted that this Jim Brass from Las Vegas Police Department had any idea who Aten was so he needed a good response, "…for Hem-netjer Fadil."

"Then your prayer got heard. I've just talked to the paramedics. Mr.…um…Fadil, so he didn't get injured seriously."

"Thank you, Aten!"

Brass stood there perplexedly. This guy misunderstood his name? But neither Jim nor Brass rhymed with Aten. He decided to let it go.

"But a check-up would be well advised…so the paramedics said."

"Sire, we don't have money…"

"But you have insurance, don't ya?"

"We don't have that either, so we thank Aten for his care and continue our journey."

_Ah, so this guy thinks that the paramedic's name is Aten_. Brass thought that it was funny but he did not correct the priest. He was though so much.

"Look, Vegas doesn't leave anybody on the street," Brass said.

"Indeed," the priest said dubiously as he turned his head to the right.

The captain looked at the direction that priest turned and saw what he seemed to see. Behind the whole crime scene, there was a man with matted hair and dirty skin rolling his sole belonging, a shopping trolley full of stuff. How this blind man had noticed that homeless man, Brass did not know but the detective got flooded with a sudden creepy feeling. There was something disconcerting about this guy.

Brass carefully looked around as if he feared of getting caught. What the hell are they doing there? he muttered when he spotted Grissom and Sara about twenty feet away. Then, not so discreetly he cleared his throat.

"Sorry, we just had to…"

Brass glanced at Grissom, "Gil, I have some eyewitnesses I have to talk to. I'll leave you with Mr. Kazim…again. But I need Sara so she can try to speak to Mr. Fadil, he has a light head injury. Nothing serious."

Grissom and Sara silently nodded. This time they concentrated on their roles. The woman followed Brass while the man helped the priest to his feet.

"So…um…how can I call you Mr. Kazim? Father or…Priest?" she struggled in Grissom's body. She felt dull as she had no idea how to call an Egyptian priest and she doubted Grissom would have the same problem.

"In my culture the proper salutation is Hem-netjer Selim which means that Selim is the servant of God but in your culture its equivalent is Priest. So you can call me as you wish, sire."

"Oh, all right. So Hem-netjer Selim, could you tell me how all this happened?"

"Very quickly."

"Could you specify it, please?"

"I'm not a very good eyewitness, Miss…"

"Sidle…I…I mean…Mr. Grissom. In…in our culture it is Mister for men and Miss is for women…so Mr. Grissom," she desperately tried to save the situation.

Hint of smile appeared on the priest's face. "Oh, I'm sorry Mister Grissom."

"So?"

"Hem-netjer Fadil and I were sitting here and praying when suddenly Hem-netjer Fadil jumped up and shouted. Our haversacks were taken. He ran after them and then silence."

"I will need a list of your belongings that were stolen."

"I can tell you right now. Our passports, two sets of clothes, bread and water…four golden goblets and one golden ring with a ruby."

The priest did not mention some things that had been in their sacks, they had been things that police would not look for.

"Goblets? For what? And what about the ring…must be expensive."

"They are very old and yes, the ring is a jewel of great worth but the goblets were for personal use."

The pen in the masculine fingers was jotting down the information this poor priest gave her. "So you think the robbers knew what were in your bags?"

"If they can see through materials then I think they did. But only Aten can see everything."

"Oh. I can assure you that we will do everything to get those items back to you, Hem-netjer Selim."

"Thank you."

"May I have your address, please?"

"El-Amarna."

"I mean where do you live in Las Vegas?"

"Well, only Aten knows. We have just arrived and we wanted to sell the ring and live from the money we would have gotten but at the moment I can't give you an address."

This piece of news floored Sara. These priests had arrived here just hours ago and the first adventure they had had to experience was a robbery that had taken away the chance to find a decent place to live. Just what kind of a picture they had got about Las Vegas.

She felt both shame and anger. What kind of a sick bastard could rob a priest anyway? She looked at the direction where Grissom was supposed to talk to Priest Fadil. Sara was expected him to be busy with the case but their eyes met.

Sara saw that Grissom excused himself and almost ran to her. For the second time in an hour, the woman took the man's arm and pulled him aside.

"Greg texted me…I mean texted _you_."

"What did he want?"

"He is coming here…would you please fill me in?"

"Why is he coming here? Can't it wait until we get back to the Lab?"

"Evidently not, he was over-eager to see _you_…again…"

"What do you insinuate…again?"

From the background, Hem-netjer Selim cleared his throat.

"Can we leave now?"

Sara knew that they had nowhere to go and she felt responsible for them somehow. She would not sleep knowing that these priests had to sleep on a bench. Forgetting again about their situation she turned to Grissom.

"Grisso…Sara, we have to help them. Hem-netjer Selim and Hem-netjer Fadil have no money, they lost everything."

"Hem-netjer Selim, would you excuse us for a minute?"

"Sure," he said but he perked up his ears.

Priest Fadil joined Priest Selim while Sara and Grissom walked a few feet away. Grissom told her that he had a friend who ran a small but cozy inn on the outskirt of the city. He promised Sara that only a call from him and the two priests could live there at least for a few days and pay later. In the meanwhile they were going to find their belongings and case solved.

"So call the hotel," Sara became zealous for the development.

"At the moment, I am you, remember? So you have to call the inn. Ask for Marianne Scott."

Sara tried very hard to hide her resurfacing jealousy but she was sure that she failed at it; still, she wanted to know where this acquaintanceship came from. She needed to know why this woman was going to do such a big favor to Gil Grissom.

"Marianne Scott?"

"Yes," he was about to leave it alone but Sara was not satisfied with his answer.

"Are you two friends? I…I just need to know how to act with her…I…I wouldn't be this nosy anyway…I…"

"Yes, she's a friend."

For a change, she would have expected a bit more information on the woman but of course he did not offer any. A friend…could be more and could be less…than just a friend.

After she had swallowed her pride, Sara made the call and to her surprise, it went very well. The woman sounded nice but not old enough to Sara's liking. She was angry at herself for feeling this vulnerable. She could not be jealous of every woman he knew while he probably did not feel anything regarding her friends.

When Sara ended the call, she nodded at Grissom and both walked back to the priests to share the good news. And it really was great news. Las Vegas had already shown them how dangerous it could be, neither of them had wanted another attack. Both priests were very grateful for the CSIs.

Sara agreed to take the Egyptian men to their accommodation as - after all - she looked like Grissom at the moment. She was reluctant to leave the man who used her body, not just because the situation was new for both of them but somehow his closeness offered some comfort that she was not in this surreal condition alone. For the first time, maybe just maybe she could share her fears with someone who surely would understand what she was talking about. Not even mention the fact that this body-swap had created an intimate link between them.

The priests, Sara and Grissom were about to say goodbye when a car came to a halt. The audience did not have to wait long to see what crazy person had just arrived. First a medium-sized carrier appeared and then a lanky young guy with 80's inspired hair that could not be decided if it was blond or brown followed that carrier. He happily jogged toward the woman he had known as Sara Sidle.

"Her Majesty? I got the call you were waiting for. I tried to call you many times but you didn't answer your phone so I dared to pick up Maia for you. And as your shift is almost over, here we are."

Even though Greg shared so much information he succeeded to sputter them in less than ten five seconds. Probably he had known that he would have been cut in by Grissom.

Greg turned his head toward the man close to Sara, "Oh, and hello Grissom."

"Maia? You said Maia?" Priest Fadil asked. This name woke him up hopelessly from his wandering but Priest Selim poked him unperceived.

When Greg lifted the carrier up so the woman could see it, only the supervisor moved quickly to hold the box.

"Thank you, Greg," the man said zealously making Greg surprised.

"Oh."

Almost immediately, both Grissom and Sara realized what had just happened but neither knew how to climb out of this hole. This time the woman could react sooner than the man.

"I…I told Grissom about Maia and it's always fun to meet a beautiful creature," the woman said but the man inside her body still did not know what that carrier contained.

"Ahhh, I didn't know you are a cat man, Grissom," Greg cheered up.

"A cat?" the priests and the woman burst out simultaneously but not for the same reason.

"Yes, a cute Egyptian Mau," Greg proudly said. "I gave her as a present."

"The Goddess Bass," Priest Fadil whispered into the other priest's ear who shushed him.

"Here," Greg gave the woman the carrier.

"Well, take very good care of Maia, Sara," in Grissom's voice she emphasized the word 'very good care' but her heart was crying out for a hug.

Hesitantly though but the captivated soul closed in Grissom's body walked the two priests to the car and after all of them had got into it, she drove away only looking back in the rearview mirror.

Grissom was reluctant to let the woman who used his body go with strangers, not just because the situation was new for them but somehow her closeness offered the only comfort that he was not in this surreal condition alone. For the first time, maybe just maybe he could be brave enough to share his fears with someone who surely would understand what he was talking about. Not even mention the fact that this body-swap had created an intimate link between them.

"So, sweetie. I take you home," Greg's voice conveyed a comical undulation, just as his way of moving.

"Thanks but I can drive myself."

"Hah, but you don't have a car to drive as grumpy Grissom took it so you have to settle for my white horse," he pointed to his blue car.

_Grumpy is your_… "Neither white nor a horse…"

"But I can whinny if you want me to…I know you love me whinnying."

Letting his eyebrows run up to his hairline, Grissom didn't know how to react. He had to keep it in mind that he had to perform Sara and she probably would never shout Greg down but he was positive that in no time, he was going to crazy if he had to listen to Greg long. Considering that Sara had taken his car, Grissom had no other option left; he had to let Greg take him home. To Sara's apartment.

The question was whether this young guy knew where his Sara lived or not. He almost begged for a negative answer.

"Follow me…your limousine is ready. I take you want to go home on the shorter route. Maia is excited."

"Um…yeah."

Shorter route? Why? Would ever Sara choose the longer one…just for fun? Did they spend time together? At Sara's home? And just what did they do there? And a cat? Really? Maia? What strange name for a cat. And why was she in a hospital? And why did Greg give Maia to Sara? Just what kind of a relationship did they have? He was angry at himself for feeling this vulnerable. He could not be jealous of every guy she knew while she probably did not feel anything regarding for his friends.

A friend…could be more and could be less…than just a friend.

So many questions and so few…or no answers.

Hesitantly though but the man in female body walked to Greg's car with Maia in his hand and after all of them had got into it, Greg offered the key to Sara so the woman drove away only looking back in the rearview mirror.

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><p>CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR<p>

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><p><em><strong>2 March 2001 at 3 pm, Room 52, at the Dante-Hotel, Las Vegas, the USA<strong>_

After the CSI had checked them into the inn and given them $100, the priests had lunch and now they were on their knees praying. Both priests had been reluctant to accept the help but the man had insisted that they should accept the money. They had agreed to call it as a loan.

"Your rays nurse all fields when you shine we live, we grow for you. You made the seasons to foster all that you made, winter to cool us, heat that we taste you. You made the far sky to shine therein, to behold all that you made, you alone, shining in your form of living Aten. Risen, radiant, distant, near. Bless you for showing us your power, your highness. Thank you for showing us our destiny. For you Aten, for your kingdom."

For long minutes, neither priest moved or spoke. The prayer was sacred for them and it demanded respect before and after its performance. When it was allowed to speak, Priest Fadil could not stay silent any longer.

"When did you realize?"

"I trusted Aten and he sent them to us. I knew noting happens without a reason."

"Aten guided us to the shiniest place of Las Vegas."

"And Aten sent the robbers, too."

"But now we don't have anything, we are…"

"Aten cares for us. You are alive and we found them, Hem-netjer Fadil. We didn't have to seek for them, they found us."

"Are you sure they are who we are looking for?"

"I heard them, I felt their agitation, their confusion and the female has a cat. A Mau. The sacred goddess of grace and poise, fertility and motherhood… Bass. And her name is Maia…The picture is complete. We don't need more evidence."

"What if we are wrong?"

"The evidence never lies, Hem-netjer Fadil."

"Yes. When I heard the name 'Maia'…I knew, too. That wet-nurse of Tutankhaten, Maia started it all."

"That's not entirely true. She knew about the crystal, used it but she wasn't the first who used it or created it."

"What do you mean?"

"Hem-netjer Fadil, we traveled a long journey, are through so much, it's time to sleep and tomorrow, we are going to live our fate and complete our mission."

"This man was so kind to us, it is hard to believe that he used the crystal."

"This man is a woman inside, that's why _he_ was so kind. You can't let them fool you. Don't forget that we have to follow our ancient rituals. We need the female first to…."

"But we lost all the ingredients for the substance and…"

"We knew it won't be easy. So many of us failed before but we won't!"

"So we start with the female but in her body there is a male soul living that makes her body stronger."

"Still, how strong a female could be? And his soul is insecure at the moment, it will weaken the body."

"How do we do it?"

"First we should get all the ingredients. We will need pine wood bark, some corroded bronze, vinegar, iron-sulphate and finally insect eggs. All can be found in Las Vegas."

"Well, insect eggs are not very easy to get…"

"Hem-netjer Fadil, I spotted our couple without eyes so why are you this scared? Aten will show us where to find it, now sleep Hem-netjer Fadil, sleep."

**TBC**


	6. Priests in Motion

**Title: Wuthering Souls**

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><p><strong>Disclaimers<strong>: Sadly, I do not own anything or anybody related to CSI.

_**A/N:**_ Sorry about the hiatus. I have recently moved to the UK, and you know how it goes…new country, new people…new home, and a new life.

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

_**4 March 2001 at 4 pm, at Sara's apartment, Las Vegas, the USA**_

There were astounding noises in the room. The whole hubbub sounded like thousands of angry bees seeking the right direction back home, but instead of finding it, they were buzzing senselessly. Grissom could not open his eyes, his eyelids felt extremely heavy, and the man never felt this forceless. He wanted to turn or at least to move one of his arms then one of his legs, but he failed at everything he wanted to do. He tried to breathe evenly and to recall the latest cases he had been working on. Usually, these techniques helped him to calm down and focus. It had never happened to him before that he could not remember the cases he had been actually working on. What was the last one? A touchy case with a woman called Pamela Adler. Officially, it was an attempted murder but no matter that the woman had survived; she was dead to the world, to her husband. And the suspect had been too young to be punished. Such an unfair system, Grissom was pondering.

_What kind of system rewards the suspect when the victim is too tough to die?_

Sara's voice echoed in his head making the uninvited bees' ruffle even louder and more annoying. He gathered every ounce of his power and sat up.

"Stop invading my thoughts, Sara!"

At first he did not get it, he was so confused but got angrier and angrier.

"I said stop ruling my thoughts, Sara!" his pulse rate rocketed when he now seemed to hear her voice, too. She had taken residence in his head alright, but until now he had not heard her. He was now wondering whether he would even see her when he was going to open his eyes. He shook his head, let out a faint chuckle, and then opened his eyes indeed.

First, he saw little, everything was fuzzy, then he blinked for some times and the view got clearer. He was silently looking at his hands that did not look like his, they rather looked like hers. They were too delicate and silky to be his or of any other creatures. His eyes followed the line of the fine body, and finally, memories of the last day hit him.

Grissom jumped out of Sara's bed and sprang to the kitchen for a glass of water. It was essential to beat the formulating migraine; however, he doubted that at this stage of his nervousness, he could get off the pain. He practically ran back to the bedroom to fish out a tablet, but his hands were shaking so uncontrollably, that the tiny round medicine fell to the floor, rolled under the chest of drawers, and stopped right next to the quartz crystal he had accidentally thrown while he had been dreaming the other day.

After a few well-selected words of swearing, he was about to bend down to retrieve the escapee when he felt a massive pain in his…or _her_ (he could not decide on how to address his body-parts anymore) slender ankle. Automatically, he reached for the ankle, but his hand met with bandages neatly hugging it.

"What the hell," he groaned.

Very carefully, he limped back to the bed and started to peel off the material. It had to be a fresh injury, as every move he made felt like scratching a serious sunburn. The last layer of bandage was the hardest to remove, even though a hint of jellylike stuff covered the wound.

"Oh, no…oh…no!"

_**Two days earlier, at Sara's apartment, Las Vegas, the USA**_

The drive home…Sara's home had been a torture for Grissom. Greg had been talking the whole time, mostly because he loved his own voice. Grissom had let him talk, as he had had no comment to add to Greg's bubbling. Perhaps there would have had some, but those would have sounded weird from his…or whom Greg had seen…Sara's mouth, so Grissom had remained passive in their so called conversation.

At home, Grissom was still brooding on Greg's antics. He could not decide what part of them was serious, and which was really only a friendly teasing. And this was also frustrating. Grissom was not used to men looking at him as though they were about to eat him up. Even though Grissom knew that Greg could see Sara's body right now, he knew the truth nonetheless.

He wanted to reprimand the young lab boy so to stop watching his boobs…Sara's boobs or quit drooling or playing gentleman, but how could he do that? Sara would not do that, and this little fact also annoyed Grissom.

"What's up with you, Curly-girly? Don't you even let Maia out of her jail?"

And indeed, Grissom had completely forgotten about the cat. He looked at Greg then at the cat; both were looking at the man in Sara's body. Hesitatingly, he walked toward the cat-carrier, but Maia let out a massive hiss making both Greg and Grissom surprised.

Grissom knew that he was not good with cats, he loved dogs more, but this cat should not know about it, he thought. He tried to open the door of the plastic box again but much more slowly than before, but Maia pushed herself to the back of the carrier and her 'airplane ears' alerted Grissom to back off, too.

"Wow, Maia! Calm down girl, it's just Sara," said Greg trying to soothe the shy cat.

"I don't get it, really."

It was quite embarrassing to Grissom. What was so unlikeable in him for this feline? Maia had to see Sara's body, so what was it all about?

"She doesn't like me, Greg."

"No way. It was a 'love at first sight' the last time. Believe me, Curly, I recognize moments like that."

_Again…why can't you just stop this flirting…I'm not Sara, you idiot!_

"Maia chose you at the shelter, so she had to have a feeling for you…and once in love with you, nothing could change that…"

_And again…_

Grissom tried to improvise to get some additional information about this animal, "Still can't understand how a cute cat could find itself in a shelter, it is a rare breed after all."

"Yeah, she is perfect with a hint of imperfection…Maia is a typical one-person cat. This is not an appreciated characteristic."

Wonderful, Grissom thought. Now he had a cat with behavioral difficulties and to top it all off, this one-person monster - who allegedly loved and chose Sara to be her owner - seemed to hate him. But what was its problem with him now? He looked like Sara, sounded like Sara, even tried to act like Sara…then he could not imagine what this cat's problem was.

"Well, let her accommodate to her new home first, I let the carrier's door open, and she will come out when she feels it is safe," he suggested.

The only problem was that Grissom did not dare to go close to that Egyptian beast. He would solve this slight problem later; he just wanted to get rid of Greg, and then call Sara.

"So?"

"So?" Grissom asked back not getting what Greg wanted.

"What is my reward for picking up your baby?"

"Sorry? I didn't ask you…"

"Still, I deserve a reward," he insisted.

"Yeah, you deserve overtime tomorrow…without being paid."

"You shouldn't spend so much time with Grissom, you sound like him…perhaps Maia smells him in your aura…that's why she was so scared."

Greg did not even realize – how he would have done anyway – what he had just been saying, but it hit Grissom. One, why would anybody fear him…even if he was not present, as Greg had assumed? And two, what if this cat really sensed him in Sara's body. Cats were always considered as mysterious, they could see things humans were unable to. What if Maia knew?

"Okay-okay," Greg pretended that he got hurt. He theatrically walked toward the door.

"Greg!"

He stopped immediately and turned back. His face brightened up already. Grissom felt awkward but also knew that he should act the way Sara would act, so he went to Greg and offered his hand for him. Well, it was not a gesture Greg was waiting for, but the young guy had his wits about him, so Greg offered his cheek for _'Sara'_.

Grissom was pondering on the situation, he knew what he should do, but he simply did not want to kiss a guy, not even in a friendly manner. But it would have been rude of 'Sara' if she refused to kiss Greg on his cheek. Grissom was extremely grateful that the young man did not hold out his lips, because rude or not, Greg would have gone home without his reward. Then – until he changed his mind - Grissom performed the fastest peck in the middle of his cheek of the world…ever. Still, he went red from head to toe. And Greg loved the blushed _Sara_.

* * *

><p>CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR<p>

* * *

><p>The beginning of the evening had not gone very smoothly for Sara. She could not sleep well, she had felt that she had invaded Grissom's privacy when she had been in bed and the 'morning' shower had been a torture, too. Sara had concentrated so much not to peep, but she could not have avoided touching. The less she had wanted to touch, the more she had succeeded, as her senses had suddenly gone into overdrive. It had not helped matter that she had known that Grissom had had to go through the same procedure. Sara had been giggling when she had thought about remote support with computers…so their shower adventures could be considered as remote foreplay?<p>

The next hell had been the clothing. She had found it interesting that she loved every piece of shirts and pants Grissom usually wore, but at that moment it had been _her_ who had been standing in front of his wardrobe and tried to pick a decent set of clothes. She had not liked any. All of them had been either too baggy or too out of fashion. Eventually, she had decided to wear jeans and a light shirt with jacket.

Now, she was at the door ready to leave for work when she ran back to the bathroom to take a final look in the mirror. She did not like what she saw. It was Grissom, but a day-off Grissom in this outfit, Sara did not want any gossip in the Lab, so she changed clothes in two minutes. For the last time, she checked her…or _his_ look in the mirror, and although she still did not like what she saw, at least it was the Grissom everybody knew. How was it that she loved how he looked when he wore these not so cool garments, and almost hated them when she had to have them on? She did not know.

The traffic was surprisingly good this hour of the evening, so it took only thirty minutes to get to the Lab. She was nervous, more than nervous.

"Damn, just how long do we have to do this?"

She did not dare to ponder on this matter any longer, and she chased the what-ifs out of her head. But what if they would remain trapped in each other's body forever?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath risking a hint of pretence that she was ready to go inside of the building. Somehow, she did not walk as quickly as she usually did; still, she succeeded to pull a muscle when she stepped on a small pebble. It was not the pain that almost made her cry, but the fear that she hurt _his_ body.

Inside the building, everything was normal, but Sara did not see it that way at all. The offices, the tech labs, and the break room were perfectly the same, as they had been two days ago, still, Sara walked unsteadily. She did not want to meet anybody except Grissom, but where to wait for him? She felt it would be inappropriate to simply walk into his office.

"Good evening, Mr. Grissom," a technician guy greeted her…

Panicked, Sara did not even acknowledge his greeting, she just walked away. Seconds later, she looked back to check if the poor guy were in shock owing to her rudeness, but it seemed that it was perfectly okay with him. Grissom knew something she thought. He could hurt anybody, and still, they were almost happy with it. Wow. She enjoyed the situation for the first time. Everybody greeted her…_him,_ and a nod here or nothing there was completely fine and enough.

"Ah, finally! You came in, Gil!"

Or not.

Sara turned her head toward the voice, "Catherine."

"I am waiting for you for a century."

"Well, it shows…" Sara fired back, but regretted already. Grissom always tolerated Catherine's outburst and now, she was Grissom. "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

"Hmmm. Let's forget about it."

So generous, Sara thought.

"And what was so urgent?"

"Will we come into your office or I should discuss my problem here?"

Sara unlocked the door and welcomed Catherine in; however, the woman needed no invitation as she swept in. Sara - or _Grissom_, as Catherine saw her - followed her colleague and looked at her silently asking what he could do for her.

"I promised me two days off, remember? Now I need them."

"Two days?"

"Okay, one but I need two."

"When did I promise you one day off?"

"Oh, you wanted, believe me," she said now charmingly.

"Cath, can't we get back to this later? I...I can't deal with it until giving out assignments."

Sara did not want to cross the line, she wanted Grissom to give Cath those 'promised' days off. But where was the real Grissom? He should be here by now. What if a problem had arisen? With Maia maybe? Nah!

"Oh, come on. It's about Lindsey, I promised her we would visit my mom, and to her greatest disappointment, I had to postpone it twice already."

"Twice?" Sara was getting unsure as what to do.

"Okay, once, but that sucked, you know how it is…"

Sara could not understand why a parent used his or her child to get what she or he wanted because it was proven that in most cases (nine out of ten) the reasons failed to be true. A single person had no this kind of privilege.

"Why don't you call Sara in for tomorrow?"

"Because it's my day off!"

Catherine did not even notice Sara's slip. "Oh, Gil, come on, she would go off the deep end for some extra brownie points!"

"That's not true!" Sara said defensively.

"Okay-okay, you don't have to bite my head off. You don't have to defend her all the time; no one wants to hurt her."

Sara's heart was fluttering with joy, so Grissom had always defended her when _someone_ had started to bitch about her. Her mood definitely improved. She was about to give those two days to Catherine when Brass stepped into his office with a knock on the doorframe.

"Gil, I've got news on the priest robbery. Interested?"

"Oh, sure. We already finished."

"Gil, just don't forget about it!"

Brass looked at the person he thought was Grissom with one of his eyebrows up, but Sara shook her head.

"So?"

"In the early afternoon, two teenagers tried to get rid of four golden goblets. Ring a bell? The antiquarian is actually my old buddy, so he called me immediately. He said that those kids were ridiculously amateurs, they knew shit about antiques. They lied that their granddad gave them the goblets after he returned from Peru."

"Kids guessed those cups are some Incas treasure. Now, this is something. But how sure is it that those goblets are 'ours'?"

"Not sure yet. So we should tell the priests know about it and let them identify the items."

"Good," she said, and already wrote down the address where she had driven the priest.

"I'll send two patrols to pick them up in the morning."

"Wouldn't it be better if you also went with them? They already know you."

"Don't get me wrong, but even the thought of meeting that blind priest gives me the creeps."

"Yeah, Priest Selim is definitely weird, but in this world, it can't be easy to get on in life without sights."

"Sometimes I feel that he can see much more than you or I can."

Suddenly, intense fear flooded Sara. She also had had a strange hunch when she had driven the priests to the Inn. She had had the unsettling feeling that those men had been constantly inspecting her, especially the blind one. At that time, she had been ashamed of having these thoughts.

"The fearless Jim Brass…"

None of them was laughing.

* * *

><p>CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR<p>

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, Sire!"<p>

"Sorry?" one of the officers asked.

"Sire, do you know the racu by chance why we are wished to pay a bísæc at the honorable Police Station?"

"A what?"

"The reason for the visit," Priest Fadil corrected immediately.

The patrols exchanged looks. Both were born and grown up in Vegas, neither heard this odd way of talking. It was like foreign geeks learned for their English lesson…in the last millennium, and wanted to please their teachers. They met thousands of tourists in Vegas every day, but most of them used simple English and asked direct questions.

"Development in your case, sir."

"Capital, sire! Eormenþéoda!"

After this short conversation, none of them had talked until the car passed a grocery store that had a market place in the front.

"Sire!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Would it be against your will if I asked you to stop here for a young unut?"

"Sorry?" the officer asked again.

"For a few minutes," Priest Fadil said.

"Are you feeling bad, Mister?"

"No, thanks Aten. It's just that we had no chance to go for necessary shopping since the attack, and I would really appreciate it if you could be so kind as to give us ten minutes here."

"Alright, but please be quick. Normally, we mustn't stop."

Priest Fadil helped Priest Selim out of the car, and they walked to the grocery store where a huge selection of fresh vegetables was on display. Priest Selim took a deep breath and smiled. When he had smelled the first fragrance of spices through the small gap between the window and the roof of the car, he had known that their opportunity had just arisen to get the ingredients for their substance.

Ten minutes later, the two priests returned to the patrol car. Priest Fadil held a small paper bag that contained almost everything they needed. The pine wood barn, the corroded bronze and the iron sulphate were from the Garden & Lawnsmith nearby; the vinegar was also easy to get from the grocery store. They also bought some other spices, as well. Only one ingredient of the substance was missing: insect eggs.

Within seconds, they all were again on the road toward the LVPD.

* * *

><p>CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR<p>

* * *

><p>It was almost the end of the shift, and the young CSI lady - or <em>Grissom<em> in fact - was nowhere to be seen. It was unlike Sara not to be in by the beginning of the shift. Of course, it had been Catherine who had asked about her whereabouts first, but the 'Grissom' - whom she had asked - had let the nosy woman know that he knew about the delay.

Later, when assignments had been given to present CSIs, Nick and Warrick had also wanted to know where Sara had been. Again, a cover story had left the lips of the Grissom-looking person…

Earlier, she had tried to call her own mobile number, later her own landline, but neither had answered. By now, the woman, who had gotten trapped in her boss' body, really started to worry.

_Well, if I didn't answer my damn phone, he would bite my head off_, she muttered to herself.

Sara was about to leave the Lab, and drive to her apartment when a very tired looking and anguished Sara entered _his_ own office.

Right away a demand greeted the young CSI-looking Grissom. "What the hell has happened? You could at least call in or something, I had to lie and make up stories…so you know, I felt ill…I mean _you_ was ill."

"I'm the supervisor, I can be late, and anyway, who would question me?"

"Yeah, you're the boss alright, but actually you look like me, and Sara is everything in this Lab but a supervisor so you better play along until we find the solution to our situation. You don't want me to be fired, do you?"

"I'm tired of this game, Sara!"

The man hurried to the door and closed it. In this Lab, everybody loved eavesdropping (however, this time _'Sara'_ was loud enough for anybody to hear); however, no one would understand why they called each other on each other's name. No gossip was needed.

"Do you think I love being you? Do you think it is fun to be feared? Hey, wait, that part is pretty good. But I hate your wardrobe and those disgusting things in every single corner of your house! Do you like living in a monster castle?"

"Really? Monster castle? At least none of them attacks you!"

"Yeah, it would be difficult to screw off the lid from inside and to swim out of that liquid! And who attacked you, huh?"

"That lunatic cat! See?"

_Sara _rolled up the sleeves of her black T-shirt, and showed the real Sara the injured arms. They held abstract patterns.

"What have you done to Maia?"

"What have I done to her? She wanted to kill me from the very first moment! Why did you have to choose a criminal cat? She is a loose cannon with a gun! And she is all yours."

"But I need her. And what gun?! Come on!"

"She is like Freddy Krueger. After shift, you can have her."

"Okay, I wanted to go back to my own place anyway."

Although the door was closed, the walls of Grissom's office were made of glasses; therefore the silent but animated scene attracted several laboratory technicians and co-workers, including all members of the graveyard team. They could enjoy the drama no longer when Brass walked firmly toward the door. He made an irritated expression, so the small group of people vanished…everybody, except the team.

Brass knocked on the door, but without waiting for an answer, he poked his head inside.

"Gil, Sara…hey girl, you ok,"

The woman nodded, but said nothing.

"The priests arrived at last. Want to join?" Brass said, and motioned to the door.

"Sure," both said.

They could not get far, as Catherine stepped front and blocked her supervisor's way.

"Gil, shift is almost over, can we discuss my…you know what, right? You know we talked about it at the beginning of the shift."

"Not now Catherine!"

"It's not your business, Sara. Stay out of it," the senior CSI reprimanded the woman behind the boss.

The younger woman's face was priceless. The man inside – the supervisor inside - did not get used to being silenced. It was both humiliating and hurtful.

The woman who was trapped in her boss' body knew too well this feeling, and tried to hide her own hurt. She looked at Grissom in a way that he realized that it was not a one-shot when Catherine was rude to _her_.

"Can you wait until we are over with the identification procedure?"

"Well, what else could I do?"

"Thanks," answered the supervisor and they all left.

* * *

><p>CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR- CSI-GSR<p>

* * *

><p>Priest Fadil and Selim were sitting at the table in a medium-sized room waiting for something…anything to happen. One was holding the small paper bag while the other was holding his breath. Neither hoped that the goblets would ever get back to them. They were not very precious, but they were vital in their rituals.<p>

Patience was in their genes, so the waiting did not affect them; however, they got very excited when the detective and the CSIs entered the room. Brass introduced Grissom and Sara again; it was a vital part of their rituals.

"Yeah, we very well remember you all, sire!"

"That's good," said Brass, "that's good."

"Can we get back our belongings, sire?"

"Sure. We will show you a selection of goblets, and you might want to tell us which ones are yours. Is that okay?"

"Yes, sire. Aten shows us the way"

"Sara, call the officer," Brass said.

When both CSIs stood up to leave, Brass looked at them perplexedly while the priests let faint smiles grace their faces. Recovering quickly, the male CSI opened the door for the female investigator.

About ten minutes later, the two priests were about to leave with all of their goblets. They could select them in no time without hesitation. It surprised Brass and the CSIs that every time Priest Fadil had pointed to a goblet, he had then shown it to the blind Priest Selim, and only after he had nodded had the man said the goblet was theirs.

"We are still working on finding the ring, we will keep posting you," Brass said.

"Thank you. We are very grateful for your effort, sire!"

"Do you need a ride back to your home?" Sara - in Grissom's body - asked the two men.

"Well, we can't ask that much, you were very kind the last time, and we don't want to abuse your patience."

"No problem."

"Then thank you, sire! Aten will reward your service."

"Would you please wait me up at the entrance? I grab my stuff and we can go."

Brass said his goodbye to the priest and went to his business. Sara and Grissom were walking to the locker room and trying to discuss the next steps in their situation when Catherine stepped in front of Grissom. She got there out of the blue.

"Now, Gil, can we talk?"

"Oh, sorry, but I have to…"

"You can't do this to me, Gil. I deserve more than this!"

"Grissom…"

"Sara! It's still not your damn business, ok?"

"I only wanted to say that I can drive the priests to the Inn, and then you two can talk," _Grissom_ said to his 'reflection', even though he was dying to know what Catherine wanted from _him_.

"Oh…please do that Sara, thank you." Catherine became utterly nice to the woman not really surprising either Grissom or Sara.

The real Sara tried very hard not to grimace, but she did not want this woman to cry any longer either. Grissom and Sara exchanged looks, but both accepted their fate for the day.

At the entrance, the priests had been already waiting for the male CSI, but when they were informed about the slight change, their faces shone up. Aten was good to them; he led the female into their arms.

Grissom was very tired mentally, but on the other hand, he enjoyed the experience Sara's body was giving him. Sara's young body was more flexible and seemed to be more persistent. He wanted to write an article about his observation, but he doubted anybody would ever believe the source of his experience. He caressed the silky skin of Sara's arm when the pain reminded him of the perpetrator who was responsible for the scars. Maia.

"Would it be a problem if I drop by my place and pick up my cat?"

"Of course not. I hope she is not ill."

_Physically not…but mentally…_

"Thanks God, she is fine."

He wanted to sleep today, and so, he thought he would pick up the monster on the way to the Inn, and on the way back home, he would drop by his house, so Sara could live with her 'baby'. Good plan. He was thinking about swapping home, too until this hell lasted. He intended to discuss this matter with Sara. He could not wait to see her.

"Sire?"

"Sorry, just lost in thoughts. Did you ask something?"

"Yeah. Can I ask what these jars are for?"

"I collect bugs and I found some really nice eggs in the parking lot. You might find this hobby weird, but I like make experiments."

_Well, you shouldn't play with fire, Sire, and make experiments with that quartz crystal…you should stick to your multiple legged creatures._

"The outcome of some experiments could be dangerous, don't you think?"

"That is what makes me a scientist. And here we are. Give me a minute, and I'll be back."

"Um…I know I wish too much, Miss Sidle, but I'm not feeling very well. Can I use your bathroom, please?"

Grissom hesitated, as it was not his home, but how to tell a priest who had been recently attacked that he could not use the toilet. Two minutes could not hurt.

Grissom led the way up to the third floor; he was worried the whole time. His sixth sense told him that he should not let them in, but he was not as confident in this body as he would have been in his own. Keys in one hand and the jars in the other, Grissom walked to the door of Sara's flat.

Upon opening up the door, his fate was decided.

The next thing he heard was the strange noise. It sounded like thousands of angry bees seeking the right direction home, but instead of finding it, they were buzzing senselessly. Sara's voice echoed in his head again and again making the uninvited bees' ruffle even louder and more annoying. He gathered every ounce of his power and sat up.

"Stop invading my thoughts, Sara!"

Grissom jumped out of Sara's bed, and sprang to the kitchen for a glass of water. It was capital to beat the forming migraine; however, he doubted that at this stage of his nervousness, he could get off the pain. He practically ran back to the bedroom to fish out a tablet, but his hands were shaking so uncontrollably, that the tiny piece of medicine fell to the floor, and rolled under the chest of drawers, and stopped right next to the quartz crystal he had accidentally thrown while he had been dreaming the other day.

After a few well-selected words of cursing, he was about to bend down to retrieve the escapee when he felt a massive pain in his…or _her_ (he could not decide on how to address his body-parts anymore) slender ankle. Automatically, he reached for the ankle, but his hand met with bandages neatly hugging it.

"What the hell," he wondered.

Very carefully, he limped back to the bed, and started to peel off the material. It had to be a fresh injury, as every move he made felt like scratching a serious sunburn. His memories failed him. He did not remember getting injured. He did not recall being bandaged. Fragments of images were slowly oozing back, but they made no sense at all. Images of opened jars, some shiny metal buckets or something like that, aromas of spices, and tidbits of mantra or prayer. It was like a surreal scene from one of the Harry Potter movies.

The last layer of bandage was the hardest to remove, even though a hint of jellylike stuff covered the wound.

"Oh, no…oh…no!"

It was Sara's body, and now it was vandalized. Her wonderful and perfect skin was damaged. Grissom liked arts, tolerated the extreme works even, as well, but it was his Sara's ankle. How would he tell her that he was unable to take care of her body? Would she be furious?

He took another look at the sun-, or perhaps flower-shape tattoo on the left ankle. It looked like as if there was an eye in the middle of the figure.

_Her_ body had been marked. Now, the question was why and by whom. Who wanted to hurt his Sara?

**TBC**


	7. The Unwanted

**Title: Wuthering Souls**

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimers<strong>: Sadly, I do not own anything or anybody related to CSI.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

_**4 March 2001 at 4 pm, at Sara's apartment, Las Vegas, the USA**_

"Oh, no…oh…no!"

Sara's young and beautiful body had been vandalized. Her wonderfully perfect skin was now damaged. Grissom liked arts, tolerated even the extreme works, as well, but it was his Sara's ankle. How would he admit that he was unable to take care of her body? Would she be furious?

He took another look at the sun-, or perhaps flower-shape tattoo on the left ankle. It looked like as if there was an eye in the middle of the figure. Grissom could not look away; he was staring at the tattoo, and he automatically turned into scientist again. However, the skin was slightly swollen and dark red around the lines; it was obvious that the design had been finished with good care. Whoever had done this, they had spared no effort to do it right.

And this observation led Grissom to a theory. If they had invested so much time and hassle into making this tattoo, Grissom was sure that they had been on a mission. They had had a motive to mark Sara. But who wanted to hurt his Sara? What was the point?

Several minutes later, he decided to investigate this situation more professionally. He suppressed the private man in him in order to be able to record all the evidence he could collect.

**Step one:** taking photos of the crime scene…of Sara's room. His emotions surfaced at the thought of her home being a crime scene, so he worded his thoughts another way. Taking photos of…the flat.

He knew that Sara kept a spare CSI kit at home, and after a short wondering, he headed straight to her bed and reached under for the CSI bag. Unawares, he started smiling because he also kept his case just right there in his own home. Within seconds, the digital camera was in use. He took lots of shots of the doors, the tiles, the floor, the bed, the carpets, the drawers and finally, he took two close-up pictures of the tattoo. The man looked around to see if he left out anything important. When he made sure of everything was recorded according to the book, he went back to Sara's bedroom to sit down for a minute. He was not feeling well. There was too hot in the flat, he decided, so he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, but it did not help much. He, then, went to open the windows, but the air outside felt way too chili for his liking, so he closed them immediately. Grissom got annoyed at his own wavering.

"Get it done, Grissom!" he told himself.

**Step two:** dusting the prints…in Sara's flat…Grissom loved cleanliness, he himself lived in a museum (as others called his home), but Sara was a neat-freak…in a good sense of the word. Dusting in her rooms without her permission would be like signing his own death sentence. He was good at postponing confrontation, so he would be worried about the consequences later. It was his lady's safeness in jeopardy, so Grissom was not about to take any risks. In thirty minutes, he had all the fingerprints recorded.

**Last step** was to talk to any witnesses if there were any. Grissom wiped his forehead again, and let out a humorless giggle. He was all alone…so who to ask…the cat? The cat! He turned quickly toward the carrier. Its door was wide open.

The monster had been let out. But by whom? The priests? And where was she now?

For a moment, Grissom could not decide what he feared the most; that Maia was hiding somewhere and watching him silently or his attacker or attackers had let her out, consequently, Sara would kill him. Which one could be most dangerous? A lunatic cat thirsty for his blood or a furious Sara soon in the same room with him. Grissom would not call it real fear, but it definitely was a worry he was feeling. He took a deep breath and decided to search for the cat. Maia could not be as lethal as Sara, he smiled, but in fact, Grissom could not bear to see Sara's unhappy eyes. It was always her eyes that told the story, not her mouth.

He called Maia for several times, but the cat never answered. The man bent down to look under the bed when a harsh pain split his abdomen. He reached for his belly, and instinctively doubled over.

"What the hell," he moaned, but the pain eased up almost immediately. "Did the priests drug me?"

The sweating man slowly walked back to the bed, and sat on the edge of it. He definitely did not feel good. Days ago, he had been a confident supervisor with an empty, but a predictable life – _if I could call that a life_, he was pondering -; hours ago, he had been simply miserable in this surreal situation, but now, he was lost. And he was alone.

He looked down at his ankle which actually was not his, and he felt big fat tears running down his cheeks. He touched the face that was not his either, and started apologizing for making his Sara cry. But who was crying at the moment, he asked himself. He could not recall the last time he had been crying…

Grissom got upset, but he was not even able to explain it. The always cold blooded CSI felt so much stress inside, he thought he was going to explode. This was not his normal reaction to stress, he knew that. It was _her_ reaction to pressure. He was on the edge of panic.

"I'm going to go crazy…I need to call Sara!"

With his cell phone in hand, Grissom was standing in Sara's kitchen. He had even dialed her number but simply could not push the call button. He chickened out; there was nothing to polish about this. He put the phone back on the table and sat down at the kitchen island. He needed time to think. And he needed something to eat.

In the fridge, he found some cheese, chocolate spread, and milk. He grimaced at the selection as he did not fancy any of them. He felt nauseated. He was in dull pain, and most of all, he was uncharacteristically emotional. Probably, this latter scared him the most.

"I can't do this…"

He started to stand up to go back to analyze the findings on fingerprints when he almost jumped out of his skin. Right next to him, on the kitchen island, there was Maia silently watching him.

"Damn it!"

This time, the cat looked friendly, but Grissom did not trust her a bit. He did not approach her, he only called her name, and Maia answered with a light miaow.

"Are you hungry?"

"Miaow."

"I'll take it as a yes. Milk?"

No answer.

"I'll take it as a yes, too."

The man warmed a small bowl of milk for Maia and carefully served it. Then, he decided to drink some himself. He also found a roll, so he ate it with the milk. Minutes later, both human and animal were content. They were looking at each other, but neither said a word. Minutes had gone by this way when the phone on the table went off startling both Grissom and Maia. One was rushing to pick up the phone while the other was hissing then running away.

Sara.

He was holding the device in his hand, but did not answer it. Everything was a mess. Print dust covered most of the doorframes, the edges of the drawers…and the floor. Maia disappeared again, but at least, she was still at home. And the most serious thing was his ankle…_her_ ankle. To top this all, he was suffering from the effect of the unknown drug he had been given. All the coming and going abdominal pain scared Grissom. This was unusual; he had never experienced this kind of sickness before. He needed help, and he needed Sara. Grissom trusted no one but her; still, he was hesitating to answer her call.

The mobile phone suddenly stopped ringing.

"Oh, no!"

If Grissom had been hesitant to pick up the phone before, now it was his turn to call Sara. The pain in his belly intensified, and he felt dizzy. Quickly, he sat down and wiped his wet forehead.

His phone went off again, and this time, he answered it right away.

"Sara!"

"Grissom! What's up? I thought you said you were going to…"

"Sara! Would you please come over?"

Sensing the agitation in his voice immediately, Sara quit ranting. "What's wrong?"

"Just come…please."

"Are you ok? Griss!"

"I'm…fine."

Sara knew well too much this 'I'm fine' mantra. Something was off, she could tell, and his voice was unusually low, and as if he was in pain. Sara could not bear the thought of Grissom being in pain, so she wasted no more time.

"Be there in thirty minutes," she promised and broke the line.

Sara Sidle was grateful. There had been no patrols on the roads, so she had not been stopped by any for driving too fast. She parked her…_his_ car in front of the apartment house and ran up to the third floor. She estimated that she was going to be faster than the elevator. About eighteen minutes after their phone conversation, Sara was standing in front of her own door knocking on it. An elder lady locked a door and knowingly smiled at him…_her_. Sara knew her well. She was the neighbor who loved to know everything about the tenants' private lives. On one hand, it was good as she operated better than a CCTV, but on the other hand, the old lady was way too nosy. Sara knew that she had to be let in soon, or the old lady was going to roast her.

"Are you Miss Sara's friend?" she asked pushily.

Late.

"Yes."

"She's at home."

"I know, thanks. However, you shouldn't share such information to just anyone."

"You've just said you are a friend."

"Fine, just ignore me. Have a nice day," Sara said through Grissom's voice.

"Such traffic…"

Traffic? What did she mean by this? Sara did not get it, but honestly, she could not care less. Sara knocked on the door again, but this time, she applied some more force into the movement.

"Grissom!" she called, but corrected her slip right away. "It's Grissom, Sara?"

She could hear that someone was walking with a limp to the door. She smiled at it, as she knew it was a trademark for Grissom…even in her body, he kept shuffling. Moments later, the door opened. To say that the sight that welcomed Sara was catastrophic was an understatement. She recognized the typical smell of print-dust, not that she had to sniff around. Sara was immediately up in arms, but when she looked at the pale and miserable woman before her, all her anger disappeared.

"Jesus, Grissom! What happened to you? Are you ok?"

"Just closed the door, please," and he went straight back to the bedroom.

Sara followed _'herself'_ into the room and silently watched, as Grissom was suffering in her body. She…_he_ looked so weak, so pale, so vulnerable that Sara felt that tears were building in her eyes, but interestingly enough, she could not cry as easily as she had been able to before the body-swap. She could not explain it; however, she did not have the time to ponder on it, either.

"What happened?" she asked. Is it Maia again?

"Nah, she is here…somewhere," he wanted to continue, but the pain made him close his eyes.

After a few moans, he tried to straighten up a little, but the pain increased instantly. He looked up at her and he only saw his own copy. He wanted Sara…with soul and body together, and what he saw was his own body. He knew that inside that worn body, there was his Sara; still, he missed her compassionate face.

"I…I don't know where to start."

"I won't say that you should start from the beginning because it would sound too authentic, huh?" she tried to ease up the situation with a slight humor, but neither of them found it funny. So she remained silent.

"I'm so sorry," he started. "I should have known better. It is all my fault."

"Have you eaten something? You look green."

"Nah. Or maybe."

"What do you mean? What happened?"

"I…I remember…I don't remember, I mean I remember things I don't know if they are true or just dreams."

"I can't follow you. You need to calm down, honey," she soothed him by touching his cheek, but pulled her hand back after she realized what she had just done.

"Awww," he moaned again.

"My God! Tell me step by step what happened after you dropped the priests off at their hotel."

"Well, I think I've never dropped them off…the last thing I remember is that one of them told me that he needed to use a toilet…the next thing I can remember is being in bed. My head hurt and…"

"You still look horrible."

"I feel horrible."

"Soooo," her brain was in investigator mode already. "They were the last people who saw you alright. No news about the priests since…"

"No. But there is no direct evidence pointing to them, actually," he wanted to stay professional and not to jump to conclusions too early, but from the beginning, he had suspected that the priests had been responsible for his condition.

"At the moment, there is no evidence pointing to anybody but to them!"

"Awww," he moaned deeply.

"Now, this is not a joke. We need to call an ambulance, it sounds and looks serious."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"We have to figure out what happened here first!"

"Your health is more important to me than some case that might not be a case at all."

"But I know this IS a case."

"Right. Tell me what hurts!" Sara demanded.

"I feel nauseated and my head hurts."

"Ok. What else? And don't play a man here!"

"I have some back hurt, but the worst pain is in my abdomen. It is really bad."

Sara was uncharacteristically silent. She was definitely processing the symptoms Grissom had just described.

"So…you have crampy lower abdominal pain?" one of the corners of her lips went upward as she was interrogating the man.

"What's so funny?" he asked edgily.

"And…you feel as if you wanna explode? Everything irritates you, huh?"

"And the heat, I'm burning inside."

Sara went to her calendar and checked the date, even though she had already suspected what Grissom's 'illness' was. She both wanted to laugh that finally one of her deepest wishes had just come true and wanted to run back to comfort the man she knew he was going through hell. She hated to see him in pain.

"Griss! Don't panic, okay?"

"I never panic."

"Oookay. Then maybe you want to visit the toilet."

"No, why?"

"Just go!"

Grissom knew Sara enough to suspect that he should take her advice seriously. Slowly, he got out of her bed, and he approached the bathroom like a prisoner who was condemned to death. With both hands, he held his…_her_ lower belly.

Sara was following him to the bathroom, but Grissom hinted that Sara had to wait outside, "I can do my business alone!"

"Sorry," she said. And the person who was left outside turned deep red. Sara knew what Grissom was going to face soon, and she became anxious herself.

On the other side of the door, Grissom looked into the mirror and still could not believe that instead of his reflection, it was Sara's face looking back at him. Would they ever change back? Would they ever get back their own bodies?

With these thoughts in his head, he undone the tiny jeans' button and pulled them down, soon the delicate panties followed the jeans, but what happened afterwards could not be described by words.

Doubting sanity…fear…shock…and PANIC.

His first thought was that _she_ was going to die. Sara was ill! He could not protect her body from…the priests…or whoever was responsible for this so much blood. Grissom was about to faint.

"Are you okay inside?"

Grissom was now definitely panicking. He was not okay…neither inside the bathroom…nor inside _her_ body!

"Don't panic!"

Sara's calm voice from outside woke the scientist in Grissom. She knew something that he should recognize, too, he could tell. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and started analyzing the situation. Crampy lower abdominal pain + discomfort + blood. Somehow, the temperature in the bathroom felt way too high.

Menstruation.

"Oh my God!"

"Can I come in?"

"No!"

"Look, I can help…"

"I can handle it, I can, don't come in!"

Sara felt like an intruder in this situation; she hated those few days in every month, but now, she felt as if she was robbed. Menstruation was 'invented' for women only, and it was private. She could help or assist him; it was her body for Christ's sake! The thought that a male could face with this condition…and that particular male was Grissom made Sara's face crimson. Grissom was a scientist at heart; still, it was a humiliating situation for Sara, nonetheless.

"Look, you have to let me in!"

"Don't get me wrong, Sara, but it is private."

"Private?! How could it be more private to you than it is to me?"

Inside the bathroom, Grissom was slowly lost in his thoughts. He kept telling himself that this could not be that difficult to deal with, as he had solved much more impossible situations before. He looked around to see what he had, and suddenly…

.

"_Okay, we can go! Sara told him after she got into the car again."_

_Grissom was given a small package of even smaller boxes._

"_What are these?"_

_There were boxes of tampons and pads. Panic and realization flooded him._

"_Well, you will need them in two days…plus-minus one day. What did you say back then? Welcome to my world!"_

_In his embarrassment, he simply threw the paper bag behind him._

_._

"Umm…Sara!"

"What?"

"The package…you bought the other day…you know…um…"

"What do you mean?" she asked already enjoying the situation.

"Would you please pick them up from the car?"

"What is in the car?"

"Just grab them, dammit!" he answered peevishly.

Sara's hilarity decreased immediately. Grissom lost his cool, and he had never lost it easily. Sara had to remind herself that it was natural to lose temper during having period. Even though it was his soul in her body, anatomy was victorious over him. Body vs. Soul: 1-0.

She had to be more patient.

"Calm down! In the cupboard, you can find everything you need."

When the man bent down to spy inside the small furniture, he found tons of pads and tampons there. He stopped for a moment to think. Why had she made him stop by the shop the other day? He frowned…had she enjoyed the coming horror already? First, he got angry, but then, he decided to endure this suffering with dignity…he was a real male after all. However, his…_her_ belly was hurting like hell; he decided not to show his pain in front of Sara.

The next problem arose when he faced two kinds of 'device'. The dilemma was now which one to use. He rejected the idea of using tampons. He thought it would be like a…foreplay…to apply one. But considering the fact that Sara would not be present, he thought the whole action would be like a harassment. He loved the woman in the hall much more than to disrespect her this way, he theorized. Pads sounded safe. Pads vs. tampons: 1-0.

"You ready?" Sara asked.

"Almost."

"So…_this_ was the case you called me for?" she laughed.

He opened the bathroom door and limped through its doorstep. He was pale and worn out, but it was obvious that he tried to act normally.

"Actually…yes and no."

"What?" Her smile faded upon seeing her beloved man like this.

"You might want to sit down."

"No, thank you, I'd rather stand!"

Grissom knew well that whenever a hard or difficult situation had arisen, Sara had decided to stand. He could not explain this; however, he guessed it had to be because she could feel that she could fleet anytime from those suffocating settings. As he was looking at her now, even though he saw his own body, the expression on his…_her_ face revealed the fear and despair she had to be feeling. All of a sudden, he lost courage. He was going to tell her about the tattoo later…just a bit later.

"I don't know what happened to the priests, actually. I remember picking them up at the reception, driving them here…then nothing," he bubbled. These were all true…however, he was only postponing the inevitable. He could not care less about the two priests' welfare after what they had done to _her_ body. Grissom was absolutely positive about their guilt.

"It is easy to figure out! Just call the Inn if they are there…"

"Then you have to call them…you have the same voice as I have…"

"Alright," Sara agreed, but she was not happy at all. She did not want to call that woman again.

"I'll lie down for a minute while you are on the phone," he told Sara already heading toward the bed holding his…_her_ belly.

"Sure, take it easy."

A few minutes later, Sara was walking into her bedroom with the information they needed, but she stopped for a second at the doorframe. The sight of her own body still surprised her. It was curled up in the middle of the bed. Her own face was as pale as snow. Although Grissom had refused painkiller earlier, Sara just could not see him in this miserable condition. She knew the intensity of this kind of pain, but it was a brand new sensation for the man who had never experienced menstruation. She turned back to her kitchen and made some tea. Sara knew that Grissom would refuse any painkiller – he was a strong and brave man inside! - , so she used her emergency effervescent tablet to hide the medicine into the tea. With the cup in hand, she returned to her poor supervisor.

"Here, drink some tea."

"Thank you," he said gratefully and started drinking.

Sara smiled at him and soothingly, she placed her hand onto his ankle. She even squeezed it a little.

Grissom almost choked on his tea, "Awwww!"

Sara let his ankle go immediately. She blushed deeply. "I'm sorry."

He reached for her hand to assure Sara that he had not complained about her touch, on the contrary, but she had just grabbed the tattoo. It was so strange to touch his own hand, Grissom was wondering. The skin on it felt ragged…not so delicious as hers. He looked up at Sara…at his own face and started to ponder on what this young and beautiful woman could see when she looked at him. Could she really like him? Love him?

"Sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"You didn't. It's not that. It wasn't you!"

"What do you mean by it wasn't me?"

"The priests…"

"Ah, speaking of them…you dropped them off at the hotel about four hours ago, don't worry."

"What? No way! I didn't."

"That friend of yours, that Marianne Scott said you escorted them to the reception. Don't you remember?"

"No way I did. I remember smells, mantras and pain only. I woke up here, I was dizzy…how could I have driven them there?"

"So you dusted my flat…as if it was a scene?"

"Yes. I took photos of everything, even of the tattoo…um…"

"What tattoo?"

He had to tell her eventually, so he slowly pulled up his jeans to reveal his…_her_ ankle with the tattoo on it. Sara's eyes could not have been bigger; wordlessly, she was starring at the figure.

"What…how…what…wow."

"You still think that everything is ok? That I was just imagining things?"

"Nah…" she leant closer to marvel the tattoo. "It's beautiful."

"Beautiful? Aren't you angry?"

"Um…I don't know, let's get to this question later, okay? One thing is sure at the moment, you were marked…or I was marked…and so far, everything points to the priests…so we have a case!"

They both were staring intently at the mesmerizing design. It was nicely worked out; it showed that whoever had done this, they drew it with care.

"Just how long did it take them to tattoo me," Sara asked Grissom.

"How would I know? I was knocked out!"

"Have you loaded the photos into the computer?"

"Not yet."

Sara ran to her desk and booted the computer after she had brought it back to the bedroom.

Username: Sara Sidle

It also asked for a password. Sara's face flinched a little, but she tried to type the word quickly.

Password: *********

Not a valid password.

"Dammit"

"Try again," Grissom said in his calm manner.

Password: *********

Not a valid password.

"Oh, come on!"

"Okay, don't fret! What's your password, you're nervous, I type it in," he suggested.

"I…I can do it. Lemme try again."

Password: **********

And this time, the system let her in. She was not ready to share this information with Grissom, it meant way too much to Sara.

The man next to her sensed that the password had to be special and not to be for him to know. It made him curious beyond measure. But they had no time for playing word guessing.

Soon, all the photos were uploaded, and opened in a special program. They ran through all, but took their time at the ones of the tattoo. They zoomed in, and to their surprise, it became evident that it had not created by needles. There were thousands of tiny-tiny cuttings on the skin. Neither of them had ever seen any tattoos like this before. They looked at each other.

"Now what?"

"We will do some research," Grissom said.

"I actually have a friend who has a tattoo arts salon in Frisco. I am calling him," and with it, she stood up and went in search for her phone. Grissom did not like the idea that Sara had that guy's number in her phone. He was wondering if they were in regular contact.

She had her mobile phone in her hands when she heard a lovely voice. She looked toward the direction of the sweet voice, and saw her wonderful cat sitting on one of her bookshelves. The feline was looking at her…_him_, but it showed that the animal knew exactly who was inside the stranger's body. Sara happily ran to her, and immediately hugged the cat to her chest. Maia started to purr, but she kept staring at something.

"What's that baby?"

"Miaow."

"Yes, I know, I missed you, too," she cheered, but when the cat did not look away from that one certain thing, Sara followed her stare. It was a book she had bought in a market in San Francisco.

The mystery of the Ancient Egypt - sacred writing and symbols

A hint of fear mingled into her joy at the discovery. Sara looked at the cat that was now looking back at her, and Sara could swear that the cat was smiling.

"Ah, so you found the monster?"

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, I told you that I didn't need any painkiller."

"Yeah…sure," she muttered. She wanted to tell him so bad that it was the painkiller that made everything better, not his strength, but she did not want to hurt his pride. He was not in pain – for now -, and this was that only mattered for Sara.

She was just trying to pull that certain book out when Maia jumped out from her hug upon seeing Grissom.

"Shit," she swore when both cat and book fell down to the floor.

Maia took a residence in a fair distance from the real Grissom while the book was now on the carpet open. Grissom looked at Sara, and she looked back at him.

Both read the title for the chapter: Akhetaten, the Horizon of the Aten.

They remembered that Hem-netjer Selim had mentioned several times that name, Aten. It could not be just a coincidence. Grissom woke from their musing first, so he grabbed the book. He turned the page to read on…

Their breathing patterns and heart rates synchronized in a crazy dance; their pulse rates rocketed…

**TBC**


End file.
